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CHRISTOPHER 



LIONEL JOSAPHARE 



PRIVATELY PRINTED 
SAN FRANCISCO 

1921 






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COPYRIGHT, 1921 
LIONEL JOSAPHARE 



JUN2I 1921 



©CI.A6148C3 



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ACT I 

page 7 

ACT II 2^ 

ACT III 3^ 

ACT IV 4g 

ACT V 59 



CHRISTOPHER 



CHRISTOPHER 



BOHANOC, the king. 

EDAMIA, queen. 

ATARAGON, daughter of Bohanoc and former queen ; is 

priestess. 
SEBASTIAN, onetime pretender to the throne. 
CHRISTOPHER, distant cousin of Bohanoc. 
SIR JOHN, Christopher's tutor. 
ABYMELIG, a blind man. 
GREGORIUS, member of the palace guard. 
WINIFRED, servant in Christopher's house. 
BEELZEBUB, a negro slave. 



ACT 1. Scene l. A roadside. 

CHRISTOPHER and JOHN. 

John. Gone, elegantly gone; yet gone. The sun 

Is buried in the west. With pompous funeral 

And colors bearing almost into music. 

This bauble of the sky goes out. I say it 

Upon mine honor, while to my discredit, 

That hour by hour, patience relieving patience. 

Like sentry taking weary sentry's watching, 

Yourself, myself, remained here through all changes. 

From the highest overhanging of the orb 

In the pinnacle of day, then cloud to cloud 

Unto its golden disappearance, we 

Have lagged beneath, like drink-disabled louts, 



Unfit to leave; and no Ataragon 

Or princess found by any other name, 

Has come to kiss us in desire, clap hands 

With us in glee, or smite our faces 

In woman's wrath for doubting her approach. 

Chr. Here too my expectation held high noon; 

Sets now in crimson and calamity. 

Here do I sink in darkness. 

John. I esteem 

The fool intoxicated with his folly; 

But him in stupor with expected sweets, 

Drunken with emptiness and air — not I. 

Chr. O idiot me! Despicable supplicant, 

Whose drunken dreams and colored fantasies 

He can suck from an empty bottle. 

John. Furthermore — 

Chr. Ah, now comes Furthermore. 

John. The haunting truth, 

Persistent and intolerable ghost, 

Standing before thee till thou darest look. 

Still, Christopher, he who reveals the truth 

Is much reviled as if he had created it. 

Chr. Such truth as now congeals within illusion 

And points its finger sharply, would be null 

And powerless to jeer me, were thy hand 

As powerful as kind. 

John. As optimist of heavenly movements, I 

Foreboded that the sun, in the formalities 

Of day, and punctually thereto, would set. 

As pessimist of woman's promises. 

The more particularly Ataragon's, 

I had divined that this divinity, 

According to her nature and performance. 

Would not astonish thee by keeping her word. 

Chr. Thou speakest well to one grown sick of speech. 

John. Dost thou acknowledge that the sun hath set? 

Chr. No, no! It is not set. Ataragon 

Engaged her presence ere the set of sun. 

She has not come; the sun has not yet gone. 

John. Or, take my version of it; sun has gone; 



Ataragon was here; has gone. 

Chr. Perchance 'tis true. 

So twisted, rankled are my thoughts, I know not 

Whether or not I saw her. 

John. Damned the woman 

That has done this for thee! A host of curses 

On her who in her devilish excess 

Could bring damnation on a host of hells. 

Chr. O master mine! Would that a roaring lion 

And not thyself had told me this. 

John. Softly! 

Contrive; nor make me, who am not in love, 

As mad as thee. Forgive this weak, old man 

That he's dismayed in sight of thy disorder. 

Oh, wert thou mad, I could weep moderately; 

But seeing sanity in madman's chains 

Is past all sane deploring. Wert thou mad, 

Imagining thyself a king or demi-god, 

I could admire the noble action of it; 

But when thou crouchest like a nondescript. 

Puling from sky to earth, peopling the sunlight 

With nullities and nightmares of the moon. 

The prodigy makes me a frenzied watchman. 

Chr. With some incontrovertible breath or beauty, 

She has blown madness in my face; brought me 

To see within myself a wretch demented, 

And that misguided monster to behold 

A more disheveled maniac within him; 

Even he to find still more preposterous inmate. 

She's made me glory-gazer, penitent, 

King, coward, slave, a medley of things human. 

John. That is not lunacy; your head's become 

A very madhouse for the lunatics. 

Chr. With each of her bewildering antics came 

Another madman. 

John. What infernal wine 

Must she dote on for drink, that, brain to brain, 

She sends these false, mad, damned enormities. 

All unforgettable and all as false 

That should be never known. 



10 



Chr. How oft, in dire constraint, must I forget her 

That still must I laboriously forget? 

How oft must I perceive her falsity 

Ere she stands false in my complete perception? 

John. Earth which created mouths to tell such tale 

And voices gasping with such thirsty sorrow, 

Must hide somewhere a cup to solace it. 

Chr. Ye buccaneers in ships of gold that sail 

The grisly and amazing seas for plunder, 

From some enraptured shore, where sorcery 

Is common to alleviate the bosom 

As here to send it pain, demand for me 

A vial of consolation. 

John. This outlandish boon 

Is for a far-fetched need. 'Tis all unreal. 

'Tis neither here nor there nor anywhere 

Within yourself. 'Tis like Ataragon: 

When she comes not, she's not, for the time being. 

To thee not now, now she is not. She's naught 

To thee. Why let that naught still make thee nothing? 

Chr. But when this nothing holds that nothing near, 

Then's all in all. 

John. And I say thou art what thou art. 

And always able, be she here or there. 

Chr. 'Twixt here and there, wherever they may be, 

My thoughts go hither thither. The uncertainty 

Of her forthcoming and her goings forth 

Have my thoughts never still. 

John. Well then, it's that. 

She who gives you uncertainty gives you 

The worst thing in the world, for it presents 

All other outrages. Be it then so. 

Ataragon, by running up your score 

Of evil thoughts, must, in her own devices, 

Have that same score of evils for so doing. 

Have we heard of Sebastian? 

Chr. Burn Sebastian 

Not near the blazes of my meditations. 

John. Why is she not with you? The Why is where 

She is. 



11 



Clir. The apprehension of that thing 

More violent is than apprehended evil, 

Which must be seen to be frightful. Comes a fear, 

A deadly marvel, felt, invisible, 

Which men call jealousy, and while disdaining 

To own, are owned by it; unsightly venom. 

With reptile body and a rival's head. 

Touches the skin, and all our inward feels it. 

Oh, that this precious tower, undermined, 

Should tremble at the bite of such a worm. 

John. When that worm crawls, 'tis on the corpse of love 

Buried and nevermore to smile. Love cometh 

With the gift of a flower. Such the symbol of it: 

A flowerlike and fading ecstacy. 

Of such same natural discontinuance 

Is all that love and women give. 

Chr. So might 

With us, the flowers and the fragrance die, 

The passion and the wonders pass, in vain, 

With quietude increasing till despair 

Has lost its desperation, but there comes 

A vision more and more distinctive, grinning, 

Of an ape that clasps in his lascivious mixtures 

The angel of our sweeter lust. 

John. And yet there's worse condition mJngled with it: 

That thou wouldst wed this disappointing princess. 

Be husband of her curious absences. 

And feed on those delinquencies forever. ^ 

Chr. I shall survive. My groans are shorter now. 

John. Survive thou long enough, and thou shalt hear 

Groans from each good and vicious fellow-man. 

Chr. I do exult thereat, but not at length. My laughter 

Snaps in the middle. Ha! Such sympathy, 

Onlooking with a supercilious Ha ! — 

Or haply double note — Ha, ha; yet goes 

Not thrice with ha, ha, ha in fluency. 

John. Twice blest is he whose house of joy's beginning, 

Can yet reserve a room for joyous end. 

There, when the guest has gone, her memory 

May sleep in sentiment, and, sleeping, dream 



12 



In repetition of those dancing hours 

That else would rave in desperate finality. 

For beauty is a wandering goddess, that 

Slips from one lover to allure the next, 

And him beguiles to signal with another. 

Chr. How unimportant we become ! 

John. There is 

A time she'll run to thee; a time she'll flee. 

Her laughter's here and elsewhere; not all thine. 

Chr. Oh, I could vomit up my soul for sorrow. 

John. Break not abruptly so. Come! Christopher, 

There is a princess of the lonely hills. 

She hath a softer hand. True, 'tis not human ; 

Yet on the forehead slowly may it soothe 

Him who has found the human touch too cruel. 

Her breath contains no kiss; yet it may whisper 

A tale of more prevailing fantasy. 

With vaster contemplation and an air 

To dim the multiplicities of man 

Below; or, gaze thou on them and forgive. 

In solitude awhile, seek thou the slopes. 

Mayhap this airy love awaits you there. 



ACT I. Scene 2. Before the Temple of Ataragon. 

ABYMELIG and JOHN. 

Abym, Yonder the rebel chief, now separate king. 

Has camped his heroes, fierce, war-belching men. 

That stink with the corruption of tomorrow. 

John. How points your arm, with sightless eyes behind? 

Abym. I feel the horizontal sun. The west 

Is red in the sky, once known to me. 

Beneath it flow the bloody purposes 

Of this rebellion. 

John. Here's war, a hideous patch for Christopher. 

Abym. You came here yesterday? 

John. Yesterday o'er the hill, 

With daylight's coming. 

Abym. You'll see some glory here, and on this field 



13 



Behold what you have read in books before. 

John. Who are you, sir, that know these things? 

Abym. I am a clown. The world's a laughing matter; 

First laugh at it, and then you'll understand it. 

It's comical, I tell you, comical, 

When one's good fortune is to be a clown. 

John. A clown ? Why, sir, a clown, a clown, 

I wot as some most captivating jack, 

A loud, rebounding, skipping bladder of fun, 

A loose-limbed, scarlet-tufted fellow; 

And motley clowns are good, with smirk and smatter. 

As clownish goes. But none of them wear black. 

Abym. True, I'm in black. 'Tis mourning for the death 

Of good comedians, your best philosophers. 

There be some who debate on sorry stuff ; 

I perpetrate such deeds as make more laughing; 

Hence, more comedians and philosophy. 

John. A blind man's deeds! Methinks he goes 

With prodding stick before him, thump, thump, thump ; 

And, cracking not his noddle, is content. 

Abym. Deeds done by other men, who'll die adoing. 

And make the world wear black, so I may be 

In fashion. 

John. Hm ! Most egotistic! 

I deem you, sir, unable for such crimes, 

Lacking grace more than licking up dishonor. 

How oft intrepid Fancy routs its foes, 

And pushes murder down the hill of dreams. 

Yet there shall be no war for Christopher; 

He is too mild and unrelated to it. 

Abym. You pedagogued him, did you? 

John. Holding his hand, 

I led his lovely infant wantonness 

To boyhood' castles; the questioning boy. 

To youth's romantic hillsides and the hunt; 

His youth, to heroism in the practice 

Of battles, governments and present manners. 

Abym. Here is a government and manner of it: 

Yon temple, Heaven's front, is now in danger; 

Which tells that there is war 'twixt Heaven and Hell, 



14 



And every man of merit must engage 

As angel or as devil. We, the Druids, 

Will range the battle for our favorites. 

John. Are there still Druids here? 

Abym. Within these paths 

Men still have wonder for the tree whose fruit 

And fascination they did eat when Druids 

Ruled in the forest. 

John. But King Bohanoc 

Worships the God that hath no other gods. 

Abym. We may be slaves to what we do not worship. 

So Bohanoc defends his daughter's temple. 

John. War is excusable in avarice 

Of what we see; the earth and coinage of it; 

But slaying for the sake of the unseen, 

Breaking heads in the interests of infinity, 

Is vulgar motion toward resplendent Nature: 

Rolling the eyes in the name of rolling daylight. 

Frothing at mouth in honor of the clouds. 

Abym. Hush! For Ataragon may hear your slander. 

Hush! For her pride is a quick-tempered realm 

Where unbelievers are not recognized 

As having rights to their own heads. Knowest thou 

Decapitation is a cure for pig-headedness? 

John. Would I were citizen of some free air, 

A green metropolis, taxed by only sun; 

In daylight's pageantry distinct, and fearful 

Of no more than the tempest's wild intrigues. 

I hate death's guide-posts visible hereby. 

Quick and impulsive am I for return 

To fragrant sods, far from the towns ; to die 

^Neath Heaven's will, not man's impertinence. 

Abym. In time of war there is no going hence. 

Save home where spade is key. 

John. Yet we will go. 

If there was ever going in this country, 

Abym. The world's at war, and has been since the time 

There Vv'ere two kings to hate each other. 

John. Aye! 

So let them hate unretinued with others 



15 



That love one king to hate the other's lovers. 
Alas that man has dictum o'er man's life! 
Here shall we lag no more. No, Christopher! 
'Twas error lured him here to see the world, 
When world he had, and this is sickness of it. 
O read upon this door! {They turn to'UJard the Temple.) 

Abym. {as if reading). "Death welcomes him who comes un- 
welcome here." 
Yea ; it is death to pass the door unsummoned. 

{Enter Christopher and tivo armed Comrades.) 

John. Tarry not here, my son; we must return 

Unto our studies and the natural fields. 

This is too dark a place. The peace of kingdoms 

Is too, too gashed with frights for your young soul 

To meddle with. 

Chr. Man will be meddlesome. 

We have, like two flat figures in a book, 

Lived in the parchment and the narrative. 

Now from the page we spring, to gaze on scenes 

Of thick reality. We have been shaded. 

Now glows the sun of conflict in our eyes. 

Let's dazzled be but not dismayed. 

John. O Christopher, 

How flushed, how changed, how grown calamitous 

Near sudden danger and its dismal front! 

As horror oft enchants the arms to clasp 

That which the legs might well be fearful under. 

Chr. There is a rat running through the universe, 

Trailing o'er cheese and sentiment. I've seen 

Marks of his feet: the rat's foot on the cake. 

Sebastian's here. These men are trapping for him. 

Upon the moment, rat and universe 

Attract me not. I am alone today. 

First Comrade. Ours is an errand benefitting all 

Save one, Sebastian; and that vile "save one*^' 

Is now within the temple and our way. 

Abym. Avaunt! The busy ministers of death 

Have nobler work than cutting your fool throats. 



16 



Ply them for no such workmanship. 

S. Com. We too are workmen with a terrible stroke. 

Rebellion's on the block. Sebastian is it 

That must be done for first, or else he lives 

In treason's last resort and refuge — loyalty. 

Abym. He downed his own rebellion, and pretends 

No more to the royal gear. As I know truth, 

He's true. Ne'er was more honesty than this: 

The new Sebastian bids farewell to the old. 

Chr. The new Sebastian, like a wounded crow, 

Hops from the scene, pecking hope's hollow grains. 

The same Sebastian that pretended king 

Would wed the princess and pretend the prince, 

Pretend a lover and pretend my better. 

Abym. He trades a hopeless cause for hope. Well traded! 

John. This with Ataragon? 

S. Com. Forsooth in the Pretender is a throne 

To which this wondrous girl pretended long. 

And long ago did she begin the match. 

Wooing Sebastian in emergency, 

Sending him love and rich conditions on it. 

Abym. This is not in your scrutiny. Beware! 

F. Com. I take no man's Beware. 

S. Com. Beware is invitation to my hand. 

Abym. Behind the temple doors, watchmen, whose eyes 

Glitter eternally as the altar lights, 

Seize the intruder, fasten him to judgment. 

And penalty resounds upon the word. 

John. Beware a moment, my strange gentlemen. 

Let's heed this marvelous man. His head may be 

The haunt of matters wrongful to our mind 

Yet usual here. 

Abym. The door is lettered. 'Tis a sentence passed 

Upon those passing under. It is death. 

John. What words are these! The secret of this place 

Has taken root within my lively heart. 

And filled my sky with its unflinching branches. 

I do beseech you, friends, you'll heed this man. 

Misfortune's here. Such prepossessions, boasts, 

Professions, what they are, condign or null. 



17 



Quite overcome me. I know not the part, 

Abymelig, you play in this. 

Abym. I am, 

Sir, as, in all true sadness, one might say, 

A clown; and at my farce will worthy. men 

Yet laugh; or weep, I care not. 

F. Com. Shall we go in and wait no more this row? 

S, Com. I'll not turn back; alarms are now too late. 

F. Com. Enter we then. 

S. Com. Come, if you dare this door. 

I'll in, though horror shake its nearest floor. 

{The door opens; Ataragon appears.) 

Atar. Are you not filled with the warning overhead. 

That you gaze in so greedily? 

iS". Com. We hunger for the treachery within. 

Atar. Let me not hinder you. 

{Comrades enter temple.) 

Abym. Thy words, O princess, are yet things of power. 

Atar. Peel praise off thy performance, and go in. 

Abym. They came to kill Sebastian. {Enters temple.) 

Chr. She sees me not, while all I ever saw 

Is there to tell me that I've lost it all. 

John. She will speak. 

Chr. How like a wraith, too lightsome for thin raiment, 

As from a superstitious climate grown. 

She seems without earth's heavy element. 

Her cheeks with dreams more than with life are hued, 

For me, with dreams more than with life imbued. 

Atar. Hast thou address for me? 

Chr. To thee I once addressed my eternal soul. 

Then didst thou leave me pleading and appalled. 

No child was e'er more frightened in the night 

Than I within the dark of lone desire. 

I said "forget" ; and, trying thus to starve 

Amid the rage and plenties of remembrance. 

Ever unto the loveliest smile returned, 



18 



Moaning the flavors of thy kiss, as if 

My lips did long for the one purple cherry 

Brilliantly hanging in a dingy world. 

Atar. Thou'st fallen from the touches of our love, 

Embraced dissension and embraved thy comrades 

Against the life of him who loves us dearly. 

Chr. Pardon, Ataragon, duty to the utmost 

Has been in all my thoughts enduring here. 

Atar. Yet the especial traits by which Sebastian 

Should be confirmed as kindred are not in you. 

Chr. Possessed with your divinities, you ignore 

The widespread hate against Sebastian. 

Your wedding music would as carnage be 

Among the people's hearts. 

Atar. And you commend his murder; 

As to bereave me ere I have espoused; 

Preventing widow's tears by emptying 

The bridal eyes; avoiding widowhood 

By slaying the hero. 

Chr. My treason is disclaiming him called traitor 

A month ago. My hatred for him goes 

A month too far. 

Atar. 'Tis never far from man to taunt a woman. 

Chr. Yet least of crimes against her is to save 

The mystery of her music from discordance, 

Though she invited the curst thing's approach. 

Atar. Explain thyself. 

Chr. There are words pardonable 

And words unpardonable. Therefore I 

Exemption ask from further mention of it. 

Atar. I am desirous for your answer to it. 

Chr. My thoughts are sacred, erring though they be. 

If not expressed, I hold them safe in me. 

Atar. He who amazes and will not explain. 

Has mouth for bubbles and froth for his brain. 

Chr. Let me be that. 

What I had thought was nothing; not a part 

Of sense; to nonsense even poor relation. 

Atar. Have done with nothing, and begin with something. 

Chr. I should withhold it yet. 



19 



Atar. Still wreathing thy refusals? 

What infamous fancy am I bending over? 

Base lookings-in o'er what sebaceous pool 

Is my beholding of your mind withheld? 

Chr, There is a time when candor utterly stops 

Before the listening precipice. 

Atar. Holloa, my patience and extortion, ho! 

Chr. What would you have me do? 

Atar. Speak out! Adjure thee! 

Chr. The woeful and unpardonable words 

'Gainst woman is in declaration 

That she did first put forth the affectionate hand, 

Wooing the wooer ere he did essay, 

Devised the journey and showed him the way. 

Atar. And this uncouthness is clapped unto me? 

Chr. Rumor is running that you wooed Sebastian 

Into love's manners, warily to mend 

The kingdom's tumult; and the credit is 

'Twas more the tumult of your heart was quelled 

Than government's defection. 

Atar. Thou shalt be judged. 

{Enter King Bohanoc and Queen Edamia; Gregorius and 
attendants.) 

Boh. A moment of reflection ere hot war 

Hacks at our breasts to cut our loves away. 

As an adventurous man, returned at home. 

Grows mournful-captious o'er his idle strain, 

So doth a kingdom, with reflexive health, 

Cark o'er its peace and chide the careful hours. 

Congested fury turns upon itself 

And gluts in the havoc of incivilities. 

There will be some blood-letting in this place. 

Bedevilled sportsmen now hunt for our lives. 

The crown sleeps with its jewels; helmet bronze 

Gleams where the golden turret once pressed our brows. 

Unto your temple for eventful prayers. 

We come, my daughter. Christopher, my captain, 

Tap at your sword and bid it ready be. 



20 



A tar. This visitor, who comes in jumbled hour, 

I find obnoxious. Him I shall condemn 

With his two comrades captive now within. 

Boh. What has he done? 

Atar. It will be told. 

Boh. Much I discomfort at these novelties 

Proceeding. When the very air is full 

Of magic, juggling, black-art pantomime, 

Surprise abounding, then my spirit falls. 

And all the view seems to have the falling sickness. 

Atar. Bring hither those within. 

{The tiuo Comrades are brought out, bound.) 

Remark them now. 
These two are the difference when the sum of good 
From good and evil is subtracted: creatures 
Left over and malign. Gaping with grudge. 
Forewarned yet heedless of, with swords exprest, 
The whilst I kept at door, they sought Sebastian 
To kill ; 

As this outswaggering cousin stood me here, 
Thrust at my soul with man's most mockery. 
To that — no more. Come forth, ye heinous two. 
You have engaged in sinister exploit. 
The remedy is death. 
Boh. Let us be economical with life, 
And mellow in decree, ere yet the mood 
Forsakes all gentle opportunity; 
As being kind to the ill-wandering foe 
May give the vulgar sort some wise resolve. 
Knowing we are not always cruel. 
Edam. Yes, Ataragon. 

Although I am your mother in love only, 
Unwarranted in flesh and blood, unsealed 
With native wax, see, your parental king 
Shares all his greatness with me. Give thou me, 
As to him, fond respect for this entreaty. 
Let me be orator for these intruders. 
Give them the franchise of their beating hearts 



21 



To tell their brethren. In these burning days, 

A finer temper may come to the minds 

That now are testy. 

Atar. Be there a drop of pity 

Or affectation of it in my blood, 

I'll use it for your sakes, and, using. 

Do use it up. Go tell your fellows now, 

Ataragon did have such pitiful drop. 

And that you've had it. Now I am sheer of it. 

Depart. 

{They are unbound; exeunt.) 

So then, thou scandalous Christopher, 
I shall not take a kinsman's noble life. 
All else I take from thee. 
Edam. What is his crime? 

He ever looked sincere. 

Atar. That was his crime. 

Chr. These men assailed thy promised punishment. 
I brooked thy vanity, thy less than little. 
Forgive me for this little erringness. 
That has a huge repentance. 

Atar. Thou dost not plead as shrewdly as thou railest; 
And for the falsehood thou hast sounded here. 
So shalt thy life resound with answers false 
To thy requirements. Gone be all thy titles; 
Thy name be stricken from rewards and honors. 
Dark be thy days on earth, and cold thy fireside. 
Dead be the heavenly tree that flourishes 
With thy hereafter. Let its fruits drop tasteless. 
Black writ on black thy total history. 
John. O my poor boy, now poor art thou indeed. 
Chr. If I be made a slave, I'll be a good one. 
John. Fool, remember thy glory. 
Boh. What you have done I have no certainty, 
Yet certain am her judgment is of justice. 
Chr. My king, I quaffed from thy hospitable cup 
And bit as soon the souring stone in vain. 
Not all in disappointment, I do not 
Reject the deeds whose honors are not mine. 
Hope's fruits, that rotted ere the ripening time, 



22 



I cast away, and, with some patience yet, 

Against the truculence of this day, hurl 

The melancholy challenge of my love. 

Edam. What hero could say more, after his nibbling 

Of roses sugared for a farewell feast? 

{to Ataragon) How dost thou, daughter? May there come a 

time 
To ponder up less penalty? 
Atar. I swear by the imperishable good 
That never will I measure this again. 
If him I e'er should meet with tenderness 
Or like of slipping welcome, may Hell's mouth 
Open and suck me smoking in. 

Edam. Shame standing naked without shame 

Were not as reckless. 

Atar. Now let us in to prayers, and work the sky 
That this distressful country never part 
Its emblematic powers. Our Sebastian is 
Henceforth our pledge, ourself, and Vv^ill vnth us 
Dart at the copious rebels, to make blood 
Drip in the damned outside of monarchy. 
Edam, {to Chr.) Bold man, that under bolder penalty 
Bows now his head, let not thy grief go forth 
Without the tear of one grief-sharing eye. 
Within thy misery, hold one good wish. 
Thy queen's. 

Chr. With daily recollection, that good wish 
Will be lifelong abundance. 
Edam. Dear Bohanoc, I cannot go to prayer 
So soon after the hearing of a curse. 
Boh. A king can pray alone. 

(Bohanoc, Ataragon and attendants enter temple. Edamia, 
^ith attendants, remains on steps of temple.) 

Edam, {looking toiuard Christopher). So fair a forehead for 

so foul a curse! 
How gallant in humility he stands. 
Like the war-horse decked for patriarchal fray. 
Like the entrancing stallion, mystic-eyed. 



23 



Breathing of Heaven, fronting revelation. 

Edamia, the whom, no whit the less. 

Honor still boasts as child, has yet such hand 

As fain would on his patient shoulder lie. 

What more than sympathy begins in me 

That him would take aside as fellow fellow? 

This exquisite nuisance in my breast! O breast, 

Thou hast no eyes! Within the darksome cloak, 

Why dost thou tremble as to see his plight? 

My own eyes, turn away. You must not see. 

Nor hold the head agrieving more than he. (exit) 



24 

ACT 11. Court yard of Palace. 
GREGORIUS and ABYMELIG. 

Greff. Never was blindness deeper gloom, Abymelig, 

Than yesterday, the climax of all eyesight. 

And yet each glimpse was almost losing sight, 

So hot was the beholding of the battle. 

Abytn. I thought I almost saw, so loud it was. 

My ears did laugh back in excess of hearing. 

Tell me, Gregorius. 

Greg. The deathly fever never pulsed as high, 

And white lips never were as many. God! 

The ardent, scarlet perfume of men's lives 

Did gurge throughout the battle's front and rear 

In the huge celebration of their hate. 

Rebels and king never in as short a time 

Emptied as many astonished hearts, making 

The day at noon with blood dawn red again. 

Abym. These rebels peopled up their Kingdom Come 

To make a kingdom go. Give more, Gregorius. 

Greg. The king and Christopher — 

Abym. Still is it Christopher? 

Greg. Aye, for his battle-axe beside the king's 

Did excellent parallel. The king, 

Though pulled and parleyed by his ministers, 

Had cursed them to the plagues, and sought the density 

Of war, and fought as 'twere the rousing heart 

Of war, more than a paltry human thing. 

He would rip open — Christopher at his side; 

And seemed the two trained from rejoicing youth 

To do the work together. Then all changed. 

And Christopher pushed further in the fray, 

Amid the weapons lost as in a forest; 

There did his axe construct a field of ruin. 

Axe? No; a dragon; to and fro its head. 

Whose convulsed angers, with continuous lappings, 

Took breasts and throats. Once he v/as backward pressed, 



25 



But with each added backward step subtracted 

One from his pressers, till he gained his ground; 

And all that followed then were in the stains 

Upon his blade. The like carnivorous battling 

I have not seen since blood became high-prized 

With liberty. There was too much for good ; 

And it is feared that this luxurious corpse-making 

Makes other trades unpopular. 

Abym. Blood's Monkey! 

You talk as if this age invented killing. 

Tut! Men will die, and some will bleed before. 

There's naught so worthless that it can't be sold 

At the price of life. Devil come up! Name's legion! 

Cry hallelujah and fly at the fact. 

The day was hot, Gregorius. 

Greg. Yea, hot. 

Abym. And if brave men flare not of their own heat, 

Nature will lend humanity a hand. 

Greg. Yes ; I have seen. I've seen. 

Abym. And were so saying. 

Greg. Too much for memory. 

That like a bucket in a torrent held, 

Through over-filling force, never fills up. 

So wild was yesterday, my memory's lost 

Most of its wildness. 

Abym. You had a friend killed in the day. 

Greg. He fought near Christopher, and, groping further, 

Sickened in overwhelming fury — fell. 

'Twas in the most expiring place of all. 

Around his jumping battle-form, it went 

As if to rally Hell, tomorrow Doomsday, 

And life inconsequent. God knows, no man. 

Though 'twere the king, topping his fellow-kind. 

Could have stood on that crowded spot and lived. 

Unnatural was it. Lives threw their men away. 

So swiftly stroke with stroke revolved, it seemed 

The slain still slew the living. 

Abym. Well worth the telling, and told as 'twas worth. 

And yet today is like to yesterday; 

More men lost on it might have won the ground. 



26 



And Christopher still takes the common air. 

Heard you him speak? 

Greg. After such probing with their steel, 

Hardly so cooled with mortal exercise, 

He and the king in silence walked away. 

And all the while, beside my idle spear, 

Posted in sight of war, I watched its wounds. 

Here comes the Christopher who toiled within it. 

Abym. I'll walk with you. 

Greg. Nay; I'll remain. {Exit Abymelig) 

[Enter Christopher and Winifred; she carrying flowers). 

Win. These come from the other side of the hill, and these — 

Chr. Wild roses, plucked, I guess, afar from here. 

Win. Yes, yes ; in the glen. A fawn was biting them. 

At once I had no mind to shout him off ; 

And then I thought, as if he had enough. 

Half for the fawn and half for Christopher. 

Them I'll arrange with crocuses and hazels 

Upon your table; yet they're dull enough. 

Chr. Dull? No. They're gay surpassing all my gaiety. 

Win. You will not care: I had a sweetheart once, 

And every while stuck hazels in his hair. 

You will not scorn to see about your house 

The very token that I gave to him? 

Chr. A blessing on your sweetheart and the hazels. 

[Exit Winifred) 
Greg. Keep him in eye that has no eyes. 
Chr. The eyes of my curiosity keep toward him. 
Greg. He was born on the dark side of the moon, 
And howling-blind fell to our earth. 
Chr. You mean that now his worst 

Is not his howling back at the moon. 
Greg. Fanatic, flatterer, contriver, madman, 
His useless head is packed with apparitions 
That make him feared by those who have no fear. 
Believest thou in magic? Then take him 
For all that's wonderful. 
Chr. Too much magical 



27 



Passing as flesh and blood perplexes me 

With the turns of its adventurous images. 

Greg. There was a noble image in this kingdom, 

Whose feet in battle raised the dust of Hell, 

Whilst Heaven set a wreath upon his brow. 

Still can he smoulder; but the heavenly bays 

Are gone. 

C/ir. Thought I of magic, then I had believed 

Him spellbound, utterly unutterable 

Of his own championship and speaking self, 

While the princess gave to her own whim full speed. 

Greg. A time there was, when fouled with contradiction, 

He would have rumbled like a stationed army. 

To note that fouled he was; and note was taken, 

Be it by army or Ataragon, 

On bended knee. 

Chr. Of all these interests and royal topics, 

I am the vagabond. 

Greg. I saw you 

As one whose once proud Avords and high command 

Had come to sudden wretchedness; as one 

Who, in his dubious, down-hearted plea. 

Babbled of his tormentors faith and virtue; 

Then silent stood for lack of faith in hearing. 

Chr. Can there be love or justice leaking here? 

Find God who can, I cannot even find man. 

Some deep stagnation on his lip keeps him 

Incredible. Behold the imperial statue. 

Is it mud or a monument? With such things visible. 

Who'd even curse them or half turn to see 

The Devil himself say "damn it" in despair. 

Greg. A humble soldier I, yet not so humble 

That I must add my frowns to any frown 

Howe'er majestic, if the time and frown 

Be not to my liking. Tie me with the dogs 

If I can understand the many tricks 

That some triumphant minds call honorable. 

Chr. Who fights for Bohanoc bleeds for Sebastian: 

That is a trick of destiny. 

Greg. Touching the friendship of the king. 



28 

You have the fame but not the favor of it; 

And for my commendation of your case, 

You have the favor, but it bears no fame. 

Perhaps, though loosened from the royal blessing, 

You will, like the great exile, fond of manner, 

Hold gorgeous pride within thy hollow state. 

Scorning the lowly station that is mine 

And the gossip of a military bystander. 

Chr. Gregorius, 

If my friends are not my friends, then my friends are my 

friends. 
The poor idolator before his idol 
That stares at him brazenly or blinks by candle 
And never mutters with a miracle. 
Kneels not unceasingly. 

In faith we're faithful, but in doubt, reluctant. 
Who gives me doubt gives me not faith. Once I 
Rapt in the brilliance of this haughty world, 
Reflected some of its own excellence, 
That lured me to surmise another light. 
I managed well, yet bungled thinking of it; 
As casting in the drama of my dreams, 
Loved, living characters, reared in vain realism; 
And should have dreamt with dreams, that I might know 
There's nothing, and our all-beseeching hands 
Clutch at the throat of the impossible. 
Greg. I take you as a dreamer over-dreamt 
And mad with the impossible. Yet such visions 
As come of woman, woman can protect. 
Chr. Such dreams protect? 
Greg. The queen could help you. 
Chr. Could? 

Greg. Receive it as a proverb of the queen: 
She has more heaven in her little finger 
Than lies in all Ataragon's imagination. 
In the subtleties of woman, she construes 
What precedes alpha and what follows omega, 
Chr. That wrecks the simple alphabet of love, 
Benumbs the functions and annuls the words. 
Greg. In such an ecstacy you loved Ataragon. 



29 



Chr. All other lights were shadows. 

Greg. Idols of pure gold heed not 

Thy golden flattery; and those of clay, 

Are deaf to many arguments. Each is 

As made; and all thy prayers change not her substance. 

This ever have I proven good in love: 

Lay siege unto the weak ; take strength by storm. 

The weak will temporize; the strong embrace 

The tempest. 

{Enter Bohanoc, Edamia, Ataragon.) 

Boh. Well met, my captain, and how cracked the day 

Upon your bones? 

Chr. These uncracked bones persist. 

My lord. How fares your battered thumb? 

Boh. I've fought with staring ribs, nor slacked the pace; 

By this thumb, slight its injury, offends me. 

I hope we shall not wave the axe today. 

Edam. I fear you both today. Though soft ye speak, 

The fresh complexion and the rash of battle 

Around your eyes do linger. Christopher, 

You startled us with your impulsive arm. 

Chr. Less than you startle me with comment on it. 

Edam. Thou art too wilful-modest. Even as Bohanoc 

Arises from his bed on battle-day 

Too early, so dost thou, great prince, arise 

Too quick and early in thy modesty. 

Chr. It is a mood that's better early than late. 

Boh. There's, in creation, one that's modest always: 

The moon. Last night the moon in modest beauty. 

Rolled from her couch. Oft in my solitude, 

I think upon the moon. 

Edam. The moon, my lord? 

Boh. I do not understand the moon. I like it 

Therefore. 

Atar. The sun is hard upon us. 

Boh. Let me think 

Then of tonight's moon, last night's or tomorrow's, 

When the ghosts of my betters, whom I've slain. 



30 



Tread the transparent way. 

Edam. ^ Thy betters? 

Never a better soldier or a king 

Went forth to clear the field of undeservers. ^ 

Boh. They're dead, and so my betters. Christopher, 

You labored like a king; which is to say 

You have made your own sovereign half-ashamed 

He went no further and outkinged himself. 

C/ir. Thou sharaest me with more royal praise; 

And I must hide my head in more performance. 

Boh. My ministers advise to make you champion, 

With full command and splendor of the title. 

Chr. Titles and splendors wear I none. 

Boh. Ataragon, 

Has not this man's o'erladen gallantry 

Given thee cause to offer him jour mercy? 

Atar. There's naught can do it. 

His penalty was dated for all time; 

And all is done except continuance. 

Boh. Is the spiritual so unyielding to true spirits? 

Is there not some way that the trenchant law 

May yet undo itself and still be law? 

Atar. The law and not the trespasser is holy. 

Boh. And some there are that smack the meaning of it. 

The imperial eye lifts to the empyreal blue, 

And stops for lack of welcome. In the skies 

I look as any humble wayfarer. 

Thus do I fare. Be with me, wife of war. 

{Exeunt Bohanoc and Edamia) 
Atar. A little thing, a little thing, a teardrop; 
And many have a many; I, not one 
To loose this vast inflexibility. 
Ataragon, Ataragon. A voice, 
A whisper fine as from a rose's mouth. 
Calls me from strict establishment and grace. 
To airs of unaccountable frailty. 
More like a worshipper than fatalist. 
Chr. What was it in thee that must wound this bosom 
Before abandoning it? 
Atar. I'll hear that sob within my happiest hour. 



31 



Chr. Of what material is thy happiness? 

Atar. 'Tis woven of the winds, and so be thine. 

Chr. For she with whom I wandered was a phantom, 

Compounded how, I know not, with the woman 

Fleshed now before me. 

Atar. We are all ghosts. 

Chr. This ghost hath blood in him. 

Atar. And so have many women. There's the queen. 

What message was it went between your eyes 

And hers? 

Chr. No message. 

Atar. Then a thought. 

Chr. If thought or glance or anything of eyes, 

'Twas empty as a moonbeam of intent. 

It shot no light nor word of anything 

That was in me. 

Atar. Then something that's to come. 

I saw it. Bohanoc to Christopher! 

From lord and master unto lord and lover. 

The mischievous negotiations went 

Like mumbling doves betwixt your fluttering eyes. 

Chr. Before the enormity of such ambition, 

I must forget thee, and forget much else. 

Atar. Thou wilt forget. 

Chr. Toss up a stone until it learn to fly; 

So will I heave thy memory till it leaves me. 

Atar. Thou wast a fond and fiery lover always. 

With many powers of the impossible. 

Chr. Eternal was my love, and yet it ended. 

For with the doomsday of my soul in thee. 

Cessation came to my eternity. 

No more I love ; which said, I love thee more. 

And the more I love the less of me remains 

To wonder that my lovelorn self, thus lessened 

And hurt my love, can love more than before. 

Each day I scanned the heavens, while the sun. 

Like angel with a flaming sword, drove me 

To night's despair. At night I watched 

The sumptuous convent of the stars, and asked 

If one of their good omens might be mine. 



32 



Hope saw and then saw not, and hoped again 

To see. O wicked witch that, at our birth. 

Bestows the gift of hope. Thrice-wicked hag 

That stands beside the sufferer and soothes 

His hope with momentary sweets; for still. 

Within the framework and the agony, 

Hope is the wild and supernatural part 

That dies to feed upon its own dead heart. 

Atar. A bit of passion, and we made all that poetry 

Float like a summer on the useful earth. 

Chr. Here comes a man that's on his way to Hell 

For the lewd larceny of an angel's blessing; 

And yet no token on him that he knows 

Whether a blessing or a curse is in him. 

Thief, knowest thou what thou hast stolen? 

Atar. Farewell, dear Christopher; and, with the perfume 

Of one unhappy woman on thine arm. 

Seek thou another. {kisses him) {exit Christopher) 

{Enter Sebastian and Abymelig) 

Seb. This Christopher is your indubitable foe. 

Meek he Is now ; yet now is not enough. 

We have no surety that, in gathering victories. 

He will not dare confront your sacred name 

With his grown military. 

Atar. Abymelig, hast thou talked with Christopher? 

Abym. No, Lily of the Sky; yet I have heard 

Deeds of him I would not take eyes to have seen. 

Seb. War is a monstrous god that oft breeds beautiful. 

Or is a beautiful, that may breed monsters. 

Atar. Belike his victories may be personal; 

Yet most I mourn his words. Thou knowest, Sebastian, 

I was not first to lay love's hand on hand, 

As he did say. 

Seb. No, sweet; I swear you did not. 

Atar. Though having right, being of that degree 

That, in propriety and maiden case, 

Might have the loving imputation put. 

But you were bold, and boldly drew me toward. 



33 



Shaking the holy edifice with wooing. 

Seb. Let him be gone; and if he will not go, 

Then woebegone be they that love him still. 

Aiar. Though we have the right, let's not push it extremely. 

He's loved now by the people. 

Abym. Going may mean returning; dying ends the story. 

Seb, I'm for it that an exile be writ for him, 

Giving authority to execute 

Him if he stay; and stay he will, no doubt. 

Then if, on such instruction, he not go. 

There is a hand that can strike death — a hand 

Not further from my left than left from right. 

Atar. If death be done him, there'd be question on it. 

The crowds would murmur "why?" And even gods 

Die, being questioned. Christopher will go. {exit) 

Abym. If the world be an egg — 

Seb. ' An egg? 

Abym. Verily, an egg. If the world be an egg. 

Then by the gods and by grace of the goddesses, 

There is a chick to come. 

Seb. But if, in pleasure of some other fancy. 

The world be something else — 

Abym. There is nothing that is not an egg. 

I speak from the hatching point. Something comes of it. 

The obvious earth, the impossible sky, proud woman, 

Mysterious kingdom ; something may peep out. 

Seb. So be the wisdom of it. 

Abym. And whosoever, cogitating freely 

Upon an egg, and knowing not its constitution. 

Would have a thought that this ungainly shell 

And sloppy contents, in the course of days, 

Would open and let fly a winged creature? 

Couldst thou, from scrutiny and pondering on it? 

Seb. Nay, nay; not I. 

Abym. 'Tis matter then to be foreseen 

What birds may peep from facts now in the nest. 

Seb. I warrant that you've seen the pregnant branch 

Where this nest has its bower. 

Abym. Some do say that I 

Am wonder-stricken with the poisonous light 



34 



Spilled of the moon; by which I am a dreamer. 

'Tis merely for predicting that tomorrow 

Follows today. Some facts are feasible. 

Seb. 'Twere useless to deny today as egg 

Whence hops tomorrow. 

Abym. Why, sir, 'twere folly to a fool. Each man 

Upon the slopes of wisdom feigns himself 

At the mountain top ; and all above him, when upward 

His eyes do visit, he surveys as clouds. 

Now, who's the dreamer: he who from the peak 

Dreams higher than his feet will carry him 

Or he who dreams the higher peaks are mist? 

Seb. Abymelig, to thee I do gaze up. 

And laud thee from the top of admiration. 

Abym. I grant you. Ha! Let's talk of things in the air. 

Seb. The earth's our subject matter nevertheless. 

Abym. The common view, but not our privileged viewpoint. 

Where find you honor: on the earth or sky-bound? 

Seb. I hold my honor not so high that it's out 

Of reach for worldly good, nor yet so low 

That I may not condemn the baser sort. 

Mine honor should not posture in the clouds. 

Where men may mock it; nor hang on my shoulder. 

Where I may drag it. More precise to be: 

It dwells not in my heart, where men will bruise it. 

But in my head, where I with prudence use it. 

Abym. 'Tis just; yet honor is a bond. 

iS"^^. We live in a certain bondage. 

Abym. Much to the entertainment of those culprits 

Not so convicted. We must measure this. 

And find the length to which our fibers go. 

Seb. So I have seen atimes that honor makes 

Good rope for a cow but will not fly a kite. 

Abym. Does not the string, my lord, nag at the kite. 

That else could not maintain its windy summit? 

Seb. The string of honor could not hoist alone. 

A spurious bird upholds it in the winds. 

Abym. All operated by a staring boy, 

Whose poor head knows not what conflicting causes 

His rich hand holds. 



35 



Seb. Can there be men so handling opulence? 

Abym. I speak not of the pusillanimous; 

I say thou art not such. In these ideas 

Of men, are overegg and underegg. 

You let no man o'eregg you, though he own 

That ornament which makes the brow majestic, 

And the seat whose occupant is at a level 

Whither men bow their shy, unroyal heads. 

Seb. Thou tell'st the truth of me, Abymelig. 

Abym. Days are to come when unfamiliar sights 

Will, in this air, flourish their marvelous wings. 

Rove through the clouds and prey on wonderment. 

Mine eyes cannot behold; joy see for me. 

Seb. Glows like a phoenix in flamboyant ashes, 

My everlasting faith, again, again, 

In mine own destiny. What king is there 

But Bohanoc that keeps me not a king? 

More king than he am I, for that more kings 

I have in my undoubted ancestry. 

More times a king than he in blood and right, 

I have been more, within that right of blood, 

Impetuous by blood to prove the right. 

Abym. What is a king in history? Were he 

Prince of the orotund earth, he meets a day 

Too royal and too terrible for human eyes. 

Seb. Discoursing of a prince not in his praises 

Is mouthing rebellion; yea, it is treason 

To say that monarchs die. 

Abym. Nature herself rebels at Nature. Treason 

Is honesty audacious. 

Seb. We are honest. 

Being natural ; so too the rebel chiefs. 

Abym. War, the world's timely issue of blood, a season 

Of sultriness and bloody escapades — 

Take it for what thou wilt — a hot condition, 

Rebellious or romantic. War is warmth. 

To hatch an opportunity. There's love; 

That's warmth. Where love is, chance is — change of heart; 

And such a change as may promote new throbs 



36 



Within a whole environment of hearts that dream 

Not of it. 

Seb. Bohanoc may think 

I love his daughter better than his kingdom, 

My heart in which I never can forget. 

Now is mine honor bound to fight for him 

In this rebellion. 

Ha! I do let mine honor go to war; 

But shall not risk my hand at it. If he 

Be slain, I should not say: "I weep for thee 

That canst no longer make me weep. The tears 

I shed for mine own tragedy I turn 

To thine," I shall not say. 

Abym. What harpies, vultures and Stymphalian birds. 

Fates, Graces, Gorgons, all mythology 

And pandemonium convulsed with Nature 

In one great orgy of destruction — Bah! 

What's that unto a king, if king he be? 

He'll glance at ruination and receive it 

With courtly grace. 

Seb. There's one I fear more than the king. 

Abym. Coiled in this chaos is the furtive queen. 

Must look to her, for she is quick at looking. 

With Bohanoc a moment gone, she would, 

By her own beauty, keep herself aloft. 

The queen hath an amorous leg, and sees the world 

Supplied with princes for all purposes. 

And she is of this kind; you know her better 

When she's done worse than you could e'er have known. 

Seb. Then may she know us better for the same. 



37 



ACT III. Garden near the palace. 
CHRISTOPHER and JOHN. 

John, When I dislike a thing, I like it less 

As each sun rises on it. Night refreshes 

And day refills my evident dislike. 

Chr. How is it one as good can hate so well? 

John. Some men hate viciously; some, with their virtues; 

These plotting precincts can keep both employed. 

Chr. Methinks it is poor place for pleasant fancies. 

Ataragon, Sebastian and Abymelig. 

John. A wondrous three, whom Bohanoc abhors 

And is afraid of. I did see him scowl, 

Frown like a godhead in terrestrial form, 

Coming from camp, when her men in the wood 

Made last night phosphorous with heathen fires. 

Chr. If she were traitor to the king as well — 

Oh, no. In her dominion spirit rules, 

And rules o'er spirit, not the mantled creature. 

John. Yet with Sebastian's mind, she may do anything. 

She is abstruse, and mystery loves no one. 

Love king, please people, pray God, woo Sebastian — 

All will she. Takes much and gives little for it, 

Glossing the world with lovely avarice, 

Counting this man this much; another, that. 

For women e'er were beggars all. 

Chr. And beggar all our monarchy. 

John. What is there here? 

The princess, fair enough, if skin be fair, 

Yet supple with that sorceries within. 

We know not yet, as dedicating the heavens 

To goblins and grotesques and sensual dance. 

The king — carnage unleashed upon the field; 

A brooding Satan in his home. A queen 

That's too, too beautiful to brood on his brooding. 

That is the publication of it. 

{Enter a messenger.) 



38 

Messenger {handing letter to Christopher). For you, sir. 
Chr. Who sends this ? 
Mess. It is from Fate. 
Chr. Fate knows the answer then. 
Mess. So I'll not wait. {Exit.) 

Chr. {reading). In the name of the Invisible and of Ataragon: 
By virtue of the sacred law, you, hereby designated as Prince 
Christopher, are instructed that, within two days you depart 
from your present domicile and take no future residence within 
twenty miles of it. And you are further instructed not to en- 
gage again in battle or public parley. Failing this, you will 
be in sufferance of death. Witness the signet of the Mystic 
Tree and the hand of the Holy Temple. 
John. Virtue for this? 
Plant lilies in this excremental sod! 
Now let us leave, glad to be spurned away. 
This is a sea of pirates. 

Chr. My ship sinks on the land. The solid earth 
Has waves and perils for my voyaging. 

{Enter Edamia.) 

Chr. Peace be with us! 

Edam. And art thou peace. Sir John? 

John. Not I. Nor liberty save to withdraw. {Exit.) 

Edam. Thou'rt calm. 

Chr. I have been robbed, and only calm remains. 

Edam. And I robbed of my calm; all else remains 

To stir in confusion. 

Chr. In ourselves 

There's left a whole one, then. 

Edam. Your calm and my confusion 

Would not make one good soul ; it would be traitorous, 

And that's less than integrity. 

Chr. All, all are traitors; none are true. The fool 

That's true to others is false to himself; 

And that's the worst of treasons. 

Edam. It is thine. 

Yes; worse than worst is to be self-accused — 

Be criminal and victim and the judge; 

Unloyal to thyself, betrayed by self 



39 



And by thyself judged guilty. Ataragon 

Hath wronged thee much. Be careful lest thou wrong 

Thyself with too much judging. Wisdom is a cat; 

Sees well in fortune's night — prithee for what? 

To catch a mouse of logic. 

Chr. Yet thoughts do come, if not before the deed, 

Then afterward. To live: to sing and jump 

In this antique, extemporaneous world; 

To love: love is a little while. And what 

If these infinitives should be no more? 

They are the grammar of a little nonsense. 

Life is a looking here and there to the end. 

To know, to know, I've walked all paths, to know, 

Till knowledge paused incredulous, turned back; 

While all of certainty brought no delight; 

And all uncertain, pain. Survival finds 

Its own endurance unendurable. 

Love lingers where 'tis banished ; thrives of venom. 

What vitals hath our love that it survives 

Unpoisoned with the coarse, nefarious food 

That's found upon the tables of desire? 

Yet Cometh ever beauty to the scene. 

A faint compassion, and the earthly heart 

Outflies the supernatural. 

Damned be the princess; blessed for me the queen. {Kisses her) 

Edam. The king's queen! 

Chr. I too am a king. 

The queen's kiss has made me a king. 

Edam. Her kiss has made thee outlaw. 

Chr. Some are born 

For their own law. 

Edam. And some are born for torture. 

Chr. The torture waiting for thy lips again 

Must overcome all other agony. 

Edam. The king shall know, 

Chr. Go tell the simple king: 

We choose our servants, not our vanquishers. 

Edam. Christopher, that never fled from warrior, 

Thou must from me be fugitive. Let mine 

Be one of good predictions for your fate. 



40 



Yet far away. 

Chr. "Go," say your lips; but "stay," your eyes implore. 

I lipped those lips; they have good reason for bidding 

Me hence. Your eyes have no such insult — eyes, 

That, with their faraway considering, tell me, 

"Be thou not far away.'* 

Edam. Cursed art thou, Christopher, for gazing on me. 

Chr. What wonders come of gazing! Eyes behold; 

Mouth rants ; arms wave ; feet catch the stride. Whereat, 

The hysterical tragedian stands aghast 

In the illumination and the marvels 

Of his own conjury, believing all 

He bombasts, raging o'er his own behavior, 

Infuriated by his own inventions. 

Within the moment and the exigence, 

The action blows too big for him: behold. 

He bursts; still man in form but not in fact. 

Because the dream is gone. And words did this. 

Edam. Oh, burst, my manner of myself. 

Chr. So then, is not an infant, born and twisting 

Out of her body, offspring of the eyesight? 

Shall I such tale of love now foist upon thee? 

Kings, courtiers, courtesans, pretenders. 

Bawds, mischief-makers, bandy-legged louts, 

Caitiffs and concubines are apt in telling it. 

Why, any woodman to his wench can say it. 

Edam. Thou art, thou art, thou art — what art thou? 

Chr. Who asks "what art thou?" Thee I do not know. 

There's nothing to be known, for all is nothing. 

Ah, most mysterious if we're more than nothing. 

A dialogue between two mysteries — 

We have it. Facing thus, what matters it 

What notions pass between us? Stay! Whose thoughts 

Are these? Not mine; and yet they're in my head. 

Whose queen art thou? Not mine; and yet thou'rt here. 

What are these jarrings on the door of life 

That wakes the sleeper and he speaks to darkness? 

The knock is heard; or at no mortal sound. 

We ope the door and ruefully cry out, 

Who's there? Comes no reply from beauty's lips 



41 



Red with love's perjury. O perjury! 

The best that's told us is best perjury. 

Edam. Oh, fearful! 

With what commodities are you stored up 

That I should yearn to buy with coins of pity 

Warm from the holding of my timid hands? 

And thou so young, with aged thoughts afflicted! 

Chr. I am not young. So mingled are my years, 

Lives juggled, terrors boded, in me is 

Youth climbing to the shoulders of old age 

To look for scenes that old age never saw. 

Edam. And I. 

I am not one come frightened here; nor cringe 

Before the doors of middle age ; nor hold 

In mincing hand the blossoms plucked in girlhood. 

The inquisitive sun may light my cheek at noon, 

And find no ageing charactery there. 

Still can I show, without affected usance. 

The unrelinquished fancies of a maid. 

My arms, with gifts of time though burdened, bear 

No trace of troubling through those years: arms rich 

With recollections of a king, yet poor 

With some incomprehensible neglect, 

Not yet of thee. 

Chr. Those arms now beckon me. 

Edam. But not thy conscience. That could never come 

To rest here. 

Chr. In his conscience now. 

Sadly the captain of the king says "Never," 

He would not captain where the king reigns not, 

Nor reign to make his king subordinate. 

Yet in another conscience, he protests: 

Ne never promised that he would not kiss you; 

He never gave consent unto thy marriage. 

No one consulted me, and I consult 

Only thyself. 

Edam. Still I consult thy conscience. 

Chr. All's taken from me; and I'm given conscience. 

So that I dare take nothing back. 



42 

Edam. There are 

Pains of receiving pain, pains giving pain; 

The last is truly worse; make it not mine, 

But go before I ail with both mishaps. 

The evidence is for destruction. Go! 

Ah, I came here not to say "Go." Leave me. 

Say I. Leave him, I said. There is no leave 

Nor go. Weirdly I've listened to the discourse, 

That, like two spectral voices in a ruin. 

Made ruin of my competence. Come, come. 

Go, go. This the continual debate 

Within. While Fancy whispers, "Follow me," 

Oblivion wails, "Forget." Nay, is it nay; 

And nay. What logic can make nay not nay? 

Oh, is it less than those eternal nays 

That sum up never? 

Chr. Say that there's one less. 

The signals! Hark! 

Edam. Combat again! 

Another, nearer shout. More lives are wanted 

By the greedy difference of opinion. War, 

That seemed once blasphemy and complete evil, 

Is now a circumstance of agitation. 

{Enter Gregorius.) 

Greg. To arms! To arms! To arms! 

Edam. To arms, all Hell, and fight my temper down. 

Chr. Farewell, Edamia. {Exit.) 

Greg. The king — is where? 

Edam. The king? The king? 'Tis well. 

Edamia, where's the king? He should be here. 

Whisper thou "arms," and Bohanoc is near. 

Even now I hear the footsteps of monarchy. 

{Exit Gregorius.) 
Insatiate madness! Still, these wars are drugs. 
They're more than blood; and, with some feeding crime 
Or sinful nutriment, o'erlavish the brain. 
And make its thoughts divine absurdities. 
Brawls are a man's place of divinity; 
Excitement is a woman's drunkenness. 



43 



{Enter Bohanoc.) 

How slow and thoughtful art thou, Bohanoc! 

Boh. Today I have no whim for slaughter. 

It is the birthday of my kingdom. Edamia, 

How much in likelihood would be defeat 

On the annual memory of that showy morn. 

The worst guest comes upon the festive moment, 

And celebration marks the day of doom. 

Edam. Bethink thee! Life hath no such measurement. 

{Enter Sebastian and Ataragon.) 

Seb. Again the fats and greases of humanity 

Are spluttering ire. This day we fight again. 

To arms, my soul ; and give me such contortion, 

Such maxims of the sword and truthful stroke 

That nevermore will treachery lift its head 

To hiss its stench against our mighty lord. 

Oh, were it given me to go afield. 

And take them one by one, I'd do for all. 

Boh. I'll go to camp direct. Sebastian, keep 

Your forces to the left, and wait my charge. 

My queen, your hair looks bonny in array. 

As if some dreamy witch had copped it up 

With negligence outdoing care. {Exit.) 

Edam. Said "negligence." 

Have care for negligence, for it brings care. 

Why stays he here? 

Brutish obscurity contracts his brows. 

The inner effort rolls about his eyes. 

What honor, brave Sebastian? 

Seb. Ready, madam, 

For the next furious moment. Have you seen Christopher? 

Edam. Go that way, and not having found him there, 

Return. He is expected here. 

{Exeunt Sebastian and Ataragon.) 
Edam. Gregorius! 

{Enter Gregorius.) 

Come hither, valiant man. Aye, more than that. 



44 



Come, Valor, and thy confidential ear. 

That man — Sebastian; be near him today. 

He is felonious, foul, engrossed in crime. 

Rank, brined in guilt, means damage to Christopher. 

If they two meet — Sebastian watch, who if, 

By word, sign, manner, gesture or control, 

Blush, motion, start or effort, seems to act 

Murderously or else toward Christopher, 

Kill off Sebastian and Sebastian's plots 

Forever. Hast thou feeling for it? Say! 

Gregorius! 

Greg. From the bottom of your heart to the top of mine. 

Edam. Then do it. 

And at the time no hesitation strain. 

But quick — quick as the Devil can wink an eye. 

{Re-enter Sebastian.) 

Seb. I have not found him. 

{Enter Christopher.) 

Seb. Are you for action? 

Chr. Now, sir. 

Seb. It is told 

That you have orders taking you from battle. 

Chr. Yes; it is told. All hark to what is told. 

Why, that is the beginning, not the end 

Of nursery tales; like "once upon a time." 

There is more to it. Aye! Read on, Sebastian. 

Now comes a dreadful scene. 

Seb. Then let's to camp. 

{Exeunt Christopher and Sebastian.) 

Edam. O follow! {Exit Gregorius) 

If he should die, indulgence would die with him. 

If he should live, duty could not live near him. 

Seb. {ivithouf). Help ho! Help me! 

{Re-enter Sebastian running, ivith Gregorius close up) 

Help, friends. Friends, help! 
{Gregorius stabs him. Sebastian falls) 

{Enter Christopher) 



45 



Chr. Vm cut in the back. 

Greg. Lie here, my lord. 

Edam. Oh, tarry; I will get physicians. {Exit.) 

Chr. I'll die with soldiers, not physicians. {Exit) 

Greg. I've killed a villain; goodly deed in times 

When honest men kill honest. 

Not dead, yet he will die. {Exit) 

{Enter Ataragon) 

Atar. Oh, where is he? Blood speaks tor him. Sebastian! 

Seb. My death is for your sake. 

Atar. Stay, stay, my life; 

Lay thy head in my lap. I know though live. 

Seb. In the lap of Nature I shall soon be lying. 

I am falling. {Dies) 

Atar. Alone! 

Here is best effort sprawling on the ground. 

Here's what I boasted. Nothing but a puzzle 

Bleeding all out. O speak, ye gory serpents 

Reeling around his body. Ye are from his heart. 

Would that ye could rear up and bite at mine. 



46 



ACT IV. Room in Christopher's house. 

CHRISTOPHER, JOHN and WINIFRED. 

John. There never was like this a marriage. 

Desire and expedition, from one cup 

Together drank, and finished at a gulp. 

Chr. I took her midst the trumpets and alarms 

Of battle; sent her home quick-pledged, short-blessed, 

A wee, bewildered wife. 

Wifi. Think of this most injurious union. 

You have in you something sometime addressed 

"Your majesty." There is a golden tincture 

Of scepters and of crowns runs in your blood. 

Chr. God bless thee, little girl. 

Win. Not girl in fact nor little in a fancy. 

Chr. Yet we're all children much in need of blessing. 

Win. Hush! "Blessing"' is a fearful word. 

Chr. When we deserve it. 

And 'tis withheld. 

Win. When we deserve it not, 

And it is given. 

Chr. What means my fanciful, my wife? 

I'll call thee Fancy and not Winifred. 

Why hangs thy pretty head ? 

Win. The ripe fruit hangs; 

The green holds up. 

Chr. What's ripened thee so soon. 

Fond Winifred? 

Win. Nay; call me Fancy, if you will. 

How many things when Fancy called are fair, 

That would be darker with another name? 

Chr. Now you are questioning instead of telling. 

John. So much uncertainty about me drifts, 

I am uncertain where to move. However, 

Move do I evermore. (Exit) 

Win. I would speak of Abymelig. Well know'st thou him? 

Chr. I know him well for all that is not well. 



47 



Win. Abymelig had a dream. 

Chr. Do blind men dream, and in their eyeless mind 

See that which is by day denied? 

Win. It must be so. 

Had he a dream of me, it was a bad one. 

They who believe in signals of the night 

Always dream evil. And he has announced 

He will relate the hateful scene to you, 

As'll make you angrily arise and kill me, 

As you slay enemies. So I do fear. 

Chr. The dream is naught to us. The damned bezonian 

Frightens by bonny. He had better play 

Blind man's buff with a bat than boo with us. 

Win. O my lord! Christopher, dear Christopher! 

Hold me, love, closer so. Abymelig 

Dreamt that I was untrue to you, and swears 

That he will tell you all he dreams. 

Chr. He better not, 

Or I'll make all of him, blind though he be. 

'Twould be relief to many that have sight. 

Fear not, my chuck, for that a wretch lies down 

And behind his filthy eyeballs has a dream. 

Win. Oh, no! 

Chr. So there's the end of it. 

Win. Ah, me! 

Chr. Or is there any dangling end beyond it? 

Win. What if it were no painting of the sleep 

But indication of the light, as he, 

Abymelig, in darkness sees it? 

Chr. And at this time, a long tranquility 

Descends upon him. 

Win. What are you saying, meaning, whom speak of? 

Chr. How soon! Ere confidence, having dived under, 

Grapples the nether floods of destiny. 

Has time to swim up for his breath, comes tempest. 

With shock and raving wave, to lift the sea. 

Enraged to find the victim still with courage. 

Win. Forgive me, Christopher, for I am young; 

And subterfuge is old as the tongue's history. 

Abymelig, now scanning thy misfortunes, 



48 



O'er which the structure of thy calm was bright, 

Desires to crash thy house with tale of me 

In faulty action. But mine was not that. 

Mine was the captured struggle of a dove 

White 'neath a ruffian's hands. 

Chr. Who is thy lover? 

Win. I love him not; he is a vulgar one. 

A soldier who deserted the king's arms and mine, 

Abymelig doth know. 

Chr. Held you him tenderly? 

JVin. Before I knew thee, Christopher — before. 

Then he came back when I was part of thee. 

Chr. Two days a wife, and — incorruptible Hell, 

That think'st in curses, thinkest of me still? 

O Bohanoc, insidiously avenged 

For my unseen and incompleted sin! 

Win. No, no ! 

Chr. Thus we have ended quickly. 

Win. Is that all? 

Is marriage a pressure, kiss and then farewell? 

Is there no kindness yet? 

Chr. What kindness would you have? What have you? 

Win. You could not find a woman fond as I, 

Or, now that I have yielded up my fault, 

More truthful-humble, begging what thou givest. 

Attentive to thy nimble wishes always. 

Thou'lt not find such as I. Knowest thou not? 

Thou dost not know. In thy comparisons 

Of women, thou art poor. 

Chr. And they are guileful? 

Win. Oh, yes! 

The most unruly would in marriage rule; 

The worst are loudest; falsest, most arrogant; 

The lowest in sinning are least penitential. 

Look at the loveliest that e'er was loved; 

The cream Is skimmed and then the milk is curdled. 

Chr. These as they are, are there not some yet faithful ? 

Win. Believe it, Christopher, faith and sworn matters 

Are changing moods with women. Faith forever? 

Summers and winters go within forever. 



49 



With days and nights that slowly fill the time. 

Happy she that weaves pleasure's golden fleece, 

From day to day and edge to honorable edge, 

Without the telltale tarnish of guilt's thread 

Entangled from an intervening hour. 

The tapestry's not pure, my lord, with any. 

Chr. We are born hungry, and the nourished brain 

Acquires the habit of pursuit unending. 

The indistinguishable soul, unsated 

With the most satisfying flesh, goes on, 

Seeking the nipples of some new desire; 

Forever feasts, forever famishes. 

Food for all hungers there is not. 

There is a vision in us, 

Or aspiration for a tempting thing 

Curved like a bosom from a mocking sky. 

Lures us to woman and to songs of her; 

Then melts into despair. 

Win. Let me sing thee a song. 

Chr. Sing, thou, since thou hast quelled my only music. 

Win. Fll get my harp, and chant beside its wires. 

Chr. Play some dark tragedy on a tambourine, 

Skippingly to and fro with thy feet. 

Be noisy as thou wilt. 

Win. Be not unkind. {Exit) 

Chr. Alike though be their lessons, would that this 

Were learned from whiter arms and sweeter lips. 

God knoweth where we place our kisses. 

{Re-enter Winifred) 

Win. What shall I sing? 

Chr. Sing "Paradise." 

Win. {singing). 

In Paradise there was a tree 
Angel, sing merrily. 

God wot, and there were he and she. 
Demon, sing merrily. 

To do this much and not that more, 

Without that more they wandered free; 

So runs the burden of this lore. 
In Paradise there was a tree. 



50 



In Paradise there was a tree. 

Adam, sing merrily. 
He did not know nor wist yet she. 

Eva, sing merrily. 
Within the world of evermore, 
The timid two thought not of three, 
Nor wisdom had of men before. 

In Paradise there was a tree. 

In Paradise there was a tree. 

Infant, sing merrily. 
Heigh-ho for us and all to be. 

Old man, sing merrily. 
While sinning least or sinning more, 
It is enough for thee and me 
To sing as all have sung before. 

In Paradise there was a tree. 

Chr. 'Tis beautiful as ever, Fancy. 
Thus fall the generations o'er and o'er. 
Reading the terrible tale of an apple core. 
Poor, frightened, pale, connubial waif — not sinful, 
Though shaped with matter of provincial sin. 

( Trumpet heard) 
Hark! hither comes the king; so says the trumpeter 
With hard-blown exclamations of his horn. 
Win. I'll to my room. 
Chr. Remain with me ; 

Not in a torment, but in smiling o'er it. 

[Enter Bohanoc^ Edamia, Ataragon) 

Boh. Is this a place where the creature's corporal iron 

Can find a forge, and hammered be anew? 

Chr. This hut hath for the body provender; 

For majesty it is unqualified. 

Boh. My body is it, and the spirit too. 

That groans for indolence. There is a hand 

Steals the indignant savage from my breast, 

And with its shrinking captive awes the owner. 

Couch me where angels comfort. The old ghost 



51 



Is rampant now, and shrieks alive, let go 

Before the view that should come after death — 

Processionals of souls and heavenly wings, 

Or drooping deep into the shades of Hell 

In caravans packed with perpetual horrors. 

Edam, Station thyself, huge monarch; stare not so. 

Inquire within thyself what ails thee. 

Boh. I am compact of all that ails the earth: 

Earth dead in earth, and earth more than alive. 

Edam. Let earth rejoice within its short occasion. 

And the eternal soul not mourn how short. 

Boh. Earth hath a soul, and I have mine. It suflFers. 

I know it when it suffers. It must be. 

Some cloud has borne upon me where is marked 

The coming wound of destiny. There was 

A time, and negligently then, and oft, 

I'd have thrown to her haunches all-hazarding Fate. 

Something akin to fear, a smitten sense. 

Moves in me now, and casualizes that 

It once o'ercame. 

Edam. A little sleep, my lord, 

Would be more virtuous in effect than these, 

The tempers of a sleepless night. 

Boh. In sleep 

Is matter natural; waking is abnormal. 

Aye ! Life is good, but not to look upon. 

And after pride's horrisonous bugle, telling 

The triumph of our daylight ownership. 

Humility bends o'er the heap at night. 

Hotchpot of antique jewels, broken glories. 

Pomps, purchases and gawds of majesty. 

From these to sleep, kissed by forgetfulness. 

Who would not bed himself? Away! With war 

I shall not play today. Death's willing angel 

Seducing to endearments mortuary. 

Atar. Today, 

If, in well-spent contention passed, will be 

That one more victory that pledges peace. 

See, I have come to welcome Christopher 

To battle once again, favoring thee 



52 



That much. 

Boh. There will be time. 

I shall not walk the path of wounds today. 

A tar. What is it? Thou wast never idle thus. 

Boh. There is a reason past all reason; we are now 

In it. Some deep subsultus in my heart 

Pleads me to stay. Habitude falters, and, perplexed, 

Gazes about for warranty of motion. 

Atar. This is the very bottom, opposition 

And other end of opportunity. 

Edam. Persuade with him no more. He is not well. 

All the congested moods, humidities 

And previous efforts in him fight for air. 

He is fought low; and writhing in his sleep. 

Last night, cried out, "Unlucky day for kings." 

His hands were hot as Fever Jack's, and wrestled 

In cautious hold of the impalpable. 

Boh. After such night, I should not tempt the day. 

Atar. This day the temple stands equivocal 

In songs of life or death. And while I supplicate 

The skies, besiegers beckon me to fall. 

Boh. Christopher is my goodly equal for you; 

For he and I as column to column are. 

Supporting the frieze and sculptury of duty. 

Atar. Where is your duty in support today? 

Edam. Speak'st thus unto the king! 

Atar. I speak with reason. Reason hath no king. 

Edam. Thou hast a father and a king. Forget 

Not first the duties of thine own employment. 

Atar. If I forget, my memory's underground. 

Edam. With epitaph that does not say he prodded 

A man in the back. 

Atar. O vain step-mother. 

Thou hast another careful step to take 

Before thou couldst side with a daughter's grief. 

Boh. Peace, all! 

What else is or is not, this moment is 

No time for telling. Bless me! Women's words 

Are the alarms and piping tunes of war. 

I did not ask for music. 



53 



Atar. Tell me of music, when my hearing is 

A chain of noises winding to a grave, 

With funeral thump. O that inclusive sorrow 

Once called Sebastian! Hence like a swan away; 

Was beautiful agoing, yet was ugly 

For going away. So went the beloved bird. 

His white wings wounded, distance-dimmed, untimely 

Through the horizon. What doth purity 

Endure for not enduring things impure! 

Boh. Come, over-mournful daughter, to the air, 

Where Nature's colors may heal up thine eyes. 

Now vexed with fluent sorrow. How it is 

That sights and sadnesses, from the same socket 

Beneath the brow, are jointly functioned on. 

As meaning then : to see's to weep. And yet, 

To weep's to see, more clearly sometimes, that 

Of which the unwashed eye is ignorant. 

{Exeunt Bohanoc and Ataragon) 
Edam. Ah, yes. Lash out, O hamstrung Pegasus, 
When grief's the theme. If woman's tears — a thousand 
For man's each separate sin — could wash 
His murkiness to white, man glorified 
Would be, twice o*er. 

{To Winifred) Angel, attend the princess with some perfume 
And handkerchief. And, be she interested 
In beauty, tell her why the flowers have names. 
How fine the squirrel's wit and jollity. 
The beetle's wing, the robin's periwig. 

Win. Most happily I go. I know those mysteries. {Exit) 
Edam. So that's your gipsy, fingering a harp. 
You spoke of her as housewife in the function 
Of broom and broth and bowl of crocuses. 
C/ir. She's all around, half of the universe 
Made female; yet what universal is 
We cavil in selection. 
Edam. High, too high, 

Above the glory of transcendent woman. 
Hangs thy great love. Such kindness is unkind 
Unto the possibilities of all. 
C/ir. Now gleams the landscape of celestial height; 



54 



Now shudders the profound. Laugh with, weep with, 

As to forbear and see this as this is, 

Is not within our metal. 

Edam. Not in thine, 

That still demanding some pledge never given. 

Holds you aloof, in spiritual disdain, 

High, hovering, alone above the lust. 

Lust is a beast that, having had his way. 

Becomes a man, who then descries in scorn 

The tawdry sheets where he bestowed his beasthood. 

A man, he further thinks, becomes an angel 

To view the woman lying there all human. 

Chr. Human? Of that I long to learn. Is it 

To say "kind sir" to every commoner? 

What's this? A woman in my arms. She's mine. 

Oh, no! Not mine. Out of the world she came. 

And will return. It is a tempting heaven 

To this proud angel that along her visits 

Makes men her devils. 

Edam. Thou, with thy raging fancies, devilest me. 

Mayhap 'twill be thou'lt say I made thee devil. 

If so, then say it. I behold thee good. 

Chr. Your glance is like the augmented sun of summer. 

Sending its golden sickness to men's brains. 

Edam. Then comes the sickest summer of them all ; 

In the despondency of best intent. 

How shall I now begin? Being here, have I 

Come to the flashing climax of my life. 

To hesitate, be meek and to return 

At the whisper of a goblin in the gloaming. 

By some called conscience? Who would be a queen, 

If her queenliest wish of all must go with groundlings? 

Chr. Heaven, which made beauty, made thee beautiful, 

And knew the imperial path of thy adventure. 

Edam. Thou hast a sin so sweet in its conceit 

That even virtue could not sweeten it. 

And yet there is a human interdict: 

Thou may'st not look on all that Heaven made. 

Chr. So say we in the forest of delight. 

Pulling aside the branch, then letting go, 



55 



To shut the vision from our passionate eyes, 

While near it, watchful and with gorgeous aim. 

The soul still hankers. 

Edam. For whose plunge to action, 

Our life's a kingdom of excuses. 

Chr. And some there are who speak with hand on breast, 

Wreaking up nature to excite it more; 

And some that put the finger to the brow, 

Rubbing up reason to the council of war. 

Edam. Verily, reason tells us what is fair; 

The heart, what to be foully sorry for. 

Chr. When reason rides the blood; aye; then It Is 

Pale rider on a crimson steed, as thus. 

To try conclusions, round and round they go. 

Proving which is greater, horse or horsemanship. 

Yet reason's nothing more than so and so. 

Controlling action that it does not know. 

Can reason thirst? Can it kiss? Has it arms 

Or episode or anything to do? 

Or can it, in supreme emergency. 

With wings in mystic flames, go to outblaze 

Before and afterward? 

Edam. There's modesty, 

Landlubber left upon a sparkling coast. 

Waiting for cargoes by bold others brought. 

Say courage Is not ludicrous. Praise virtue. 

Extol the dawdling maid, endorse the sky. 

And joggle summer clouds for fine comparisons — 

Be she as pale as pearl, as faint as twilight. 

So rare she makes a lover seem profane, 

So chaste she lights Diana out o' the moon. 

She will not equal my consideration. 

Chr. Unseal the rose-jars of all memory; 

Wander where censers reek with fragrant worship; 

Seek where the urns of Inspiration spill 

Their most entrancing passion, thine is more 

Than any. 

Edam. Though praises move me not, they're worth a parley; 

And even flattery deserves an answer. 

What's this restraining thing that says we may not 



56 



Relate the tale that in the hopeful breast, 

The depth and very shock-pit of the bosom, 

Is in relation most elating? What is there 

Estops me from within or authorizes 

Injunction? We must find these paths ourselves, 

(Lost in the storm of Do blowing on Do Not — 

As wildered thus) flout the refulgent priest, 

Heave out and cry through Heaven's corridors 

On our own prestige, hooked responsibly 

With wisdom, say I, for my lurking self. 

But thou that thinkest of the sin — 

Chr. Sin is a broken word ; and love, a broken heart. 

Edam. *Tis better to sin with all the heart than suffer 

With more than all. Woe for that hidden place 

That gasps with something greater than itself 

And sighs without response. For that, who loves 

With all the heart loves with a broken heart. 

It is too weak for its abundant wishing. 

'Tis only half-heart love keeps the heart whole. 

The other half is caution in control. 

Whole-heart love is sick heart; half heartedness. 

More wholesome. 

Chr. Never in his pilgrimage 

Has Time bent o'er two doting heads to kiss 

Their kisses to a timelier evermore. 

Nor flashed a brighter sun to solemnize 

The first, incredible desire desired, 

The words once heard and never heard again, 

The kiss once felt, and after that unknown. 

Save in their progeny of words and kisses. 

Edam. There's only one first kiss; its lightning strikes 

Ne'er in that place again. Not now again. 

Withhold thyself. I have for thee some project 

(As who would not, when thought doth follow thought 

Upon the myriad footsteps and the meaning 

That follows meaning out of sight) some purpose 

To do with prudence, and that soon, if ever. 

In truth, love uses a miraculous language; 

Meanwhile its base, unmentioned miracles 

Will have their way. What is this heavenly compact 



57 

When two inseparable voices meet 

For comforting. 'Tis breath, 'tis words, 'tis kisses, 

Making a ceremony of conditions 

Unceremonial. Wring me not now, 

Lest the expression of thy lower self 

Misleap at life to die of odium. 

{Re-enter Bohanoc, Ataragon, Winifred) 

Boh, {to Christopher). Heydey, thou consternation of the strong, 

Be acting version of thy king today. 

Discord, rise like a maniac o'er his banners; 

Victory, go headlong over his pursuit; 

Come, horrid gods of war; lend him your lightnings; 

Make his glance fatal from his thunder-car. 

Chr. Mingling of men and weapons. It is when 

The merchandisers of ferocity 

Bawl out their wares and curse the purchasers. 

I'll incommode a few. And, oh, congenial 

While this frame heaves in jarring rhapsody 

The arms that sway in equilibrium. 

Edam, Have care. Such courage may swing out too far 

And meet the worst possessions of the war. 

{Exit Christopher) 
Boh, I deem it well to rest my sword awhile. 
Life is a trap and all its flesh is bait. 
Each flower has a demon at the roots ; 
Each root has track of something there before. 
The ground has combinations, moving snares. 
By Fate applied for man's uncautious treading. 
And then to say, by doing such and such. 
By pulling such a thread or following 
The instinctive byways of the labyrinth. 
He might bring demolition to his shoulders 
Or narrowly evade calamity. 

Make the charm work or take an angel's warning 
And leave the trap unsprung. The mind's disaster 
Anticipates the crime infernal ; works 
A thousand outcomes of no coming-out; 
Weakens the girders of the neck; then hangs 



58 



The head unwatchful in the crisis. Faugh! 
Thus I. Go, give today unto its lovers. 
And hence! For I am weary; let me sleep. 
Edam. Then fetch his body-guard and let him rest 
For he will rest as doth befit a king. 



59 



ACT V. Same room in Christopher's house. 
King Bohanoc lying on couch. 

BEELZEBUB and GREGORIUS. 

Beel. Salute you, Gregorius. Is my king asleep? 

Greg. He has not waked since you left. 

Beel. Has he moved? 

Greg. No. 

Beel. Have the flies teased him? 

Greg. No. 

Beel. Not one fly? 

Greg. No. Silence, you swivel-eyed image of darkness. The 

king sleeps; has slept; and not anything has happened to make 

answer not No. 

Beel. That's unfortunate, because when I was here, he shimble- 

shambled all over the covers. Twice he muddled himself in 

the bed-curtains; and I had to object. He was like a king with 

witches and wizards at him. Consequently I thought the room 

was full of little ghosts. I could almost hear them go chirp, 

chirp, chirp. I could hear the cat-woman and the snake-lover 

and the grandmother with the wolf-skin bag. Chirp, chirp, 

chirp. That's their persecution when they swear by the bat's 

wing and the black lamb's wool and the bleeding tooth and the 

burnt rag. Sometimes it's the howling dog and the cat with 

the skinned rump and the fire on the ground. The king heard 

it too, and he awoke; and he peered as if he thought I was 

working it for magic. But I was as much frightened as the 

king. Fortunately the physician left a large vial of sleeping 

potion for such opprobrium. 

Greg. He has slept ever since. 

Beel. Then I proudly say. Very good. My king is a great 

king, although a sleepy king. 

Greg. How does the fighting go? 

Beel. Very bad. If I am bold to say, very bad, indeed. 

Though I'm not a critic of tactics and body-cooling, yet when I 

see soldiers killed and wounded and escaping, I should pro- 



60 

nounce it very bad from my standpoint. But that may be, as 
some say, a matter of opinion, or, say others, a question of 
taste. From their own point, all may be well. To be killed, 
wounded and escape in the right proportion may be good 
battle. Time will tell, when we have found out for ourselves. 

{Enter John) 

John. Good day, Gregorius. The animal 

Still breathes in me; and that's all I may say 

Of life and death, without recourse to theory. 

How are you, gallant figure of monarchy? 

Greg. Impatient, sir, at being thus remote 

From those that struggle. Still, I've had my times 

Of battle, and I like it not. By your leave, 

I must refer you hence; the king sleeps here. 

And privacy maintains. Leave, I adjure you. 

Beel. Yes, we must conjure you up to leave. 

John. I did not know. I have been privileged here 

With Christopher, my almost son. God help! 

I have been wretched. Yesterday at noon, 

A boyhood friend that knew me in my prime, 

Finding me here in dolorous retirement. 

Observing the white crescent of my hair, 

And Time's rendition on my forehead. 

Quoth he, O young man, how old you have grown. 

Pardon the violation of this room. 

I did not know. I did not know. Adieu! {Exit) 

Beel. That was a long introduction to Adieu. 

Greg. I have been thinking that we should wake the king. 

Hark to that windiness of shouts, a sound that heaps up anguish 

as if a whole army were in pain. 

Beel. It sounds like our men. It sounds like royal anguish. 

No scruffy rebels could make anguish like that. 

Greg. I'll see what it is. {Exit) 

Beel. This must be the time to give His Majesty the sleeping 

potion again. He might look to me to be asleep through and 

through, but not from a medical theory. A physician could 

feel by the pulse if the sleep is not satisfactory. Heydy, Your 

Majesty, wake up. Hey di do. Wake up. Majesty. Wake up 

and take your sleeping potion. Four times four — wake up. The 



61 



physician said to me, "Beelzebub, give this to the king." And 
I asked, "What is it?" "It is to make him sleep," said the 
physician. And I asked, "For how long?" "For an hour," said 
the physician. And I said, "It might do for an ordinary abdo- 
men an hour, but it will not make a king sleep for an hour." 
And "we will take advice by that," said the physician. So he 
made it stronger. "I'd have done it," said I. "I'd have done 
it, because a king deserves more than a common show-man." 
I didn't think of it at first; and the best of it is I'm assistant 
at the snake festival. I've mixed the drugs for the witches and 
dancers, and I'd have done it. I'd better give that potion be- 
fore Gregorius comes ; because he's ignorant of those things. 
He's a whiffler. Hello, Your Majesty. Come, come! What's 
the matter? I don't know. Surely, wake up. I can't wake him 
up. Wake up. Shake up. What's the matter with him? He's 
colder than I thought he was. He doesn't breathe any that I 
can tell. I can't feel his heart beat. It's not beating. What! 
Gregorius! Gregorius! He's dead. Oh! He's dead! Oh! 
He's dead! Gregorius! He's dead! He's dead! He's dead! 
O, Gregorius, oh! (Exit) 

(Re-enter Gregorius and John) 

Greg. The negro says he's dead. Come, look you, sir. 

He's cold. For God's sake, find life, if you can. 

John. This is a corpse, Gregorius. There's no king here. 

There is no current blood nor interchange 

Of living values. All is done. 

The loving attitude and viewing eye 

Will never from this rampart show again. 

Go, Gregorius. 

Summon the queen. This is her teardrops. We 

May stand aghast; hers is the privilege 

To mourn. 

Greg. Stay you near this, Death's masterpiece. (Exit) 

(Enter Abymelig) 

Abym. What ho! 

Are there no eyeballs reconnoitering here 

To see for me? I've staggered near the battle. 



(,2 



Without consent, as retribution shouted 

For more. I've grouped through murders, thunders, ghosts, 

Jostling catastrophes ; everything motive 

Has passed by me and grazed my embraced cheeks. 

Is this the house of Christopher? Speak, ho! 

John. It is, good sir. 

Abym. Where can I rest my head? 

My gorge is swollen with a thousand risings. 

Hark! 

Death works this way. Broad-winged Astonishment 

Doth hop from cloud to earth and earth to cloud. 

Fortune of War is drunk and laughing full 

From foe to foe, and shouts indifferently. 

One time 'twas said the king was whelmed from the field. 

John. Hush, man ! The king is dead. In this room's air. 

His once-proud lungs, not now participating 

With us, took their last breathing. Here he lies. 

Why are you careful, backward in your steps. 

As one on slippery footing? 

Abym. I go to find the princess. Fare thee well. 

It was reported that the king was beaten. 

That could not be, if no king were alive. 

Died he of wounds? 

John. The wound's invisible. 

What do you think this means? 

Abym. Only that the invisible 

Is where the blind and seeing meet as equals. 

Farewell. {Exit Abymelig) 

{Re-enter Gregorius) 

Greg. Make way! The queen ! 

Is it the king or kingdom that is dead? 

Now, sir, all excellence is down. Look you. 

Our haggled hordes go slowly round the hill. 

This window frames a picture past endurance. 

I saw the princess wavering for a moment 

At her temple door. By rebels hedged one way, 

She doffed serenity, and, plucking speed. 

Ran like a hamadryad through the woods. 

Thrilling the distance with her flight. 



63 



John. Saw you Abymelig insanely smiling? 
Greg. The blind man looked unutterable things. 
And blind were they who uttered no curse on him. 
John. Hast heard of Christopher, my brave, brave boy? 
Greg. Whose head is high or whose hand on the ground, 
I have not heard. Order is out. All's moving. 
Go, now. Here is the queen in sceptered sorrow. 

[Exit John) 

{Enter Edamia, attended, and ivith tivo soldiers) 

Edam. Something was loose within the elements 

When Bohanoc breathed out. O my dead mate! 

Was thy appearance here a trick of Nature 

Played upon fools to make their eyes boil over 

With frightful waters? 

Where is the king? This lump, this arrant body, 

Has been a hot contrivance of the sun; 

This audible and majestic circumstance 

Merely a ringing in our ears, a fraud. 

And here lies less than least it ever was 

To say that once 'twas more than nothing. 

[Noise heard) 
Greg. While time allows, let us conduct you hence, 
Pardoning interference with your grief. 
Edam. Must we go vulgarly to save our lives? 
Gregorius, 

When time allows, find his physician. 
There was some mischief in this liquid sleep. 

[Shouts and tumult heard) 
Greg. There will be time. 'Tis now to save the living. 
These two and I will shield your thousands graces 
Against a thousand swords. [To soldiers) D'ye hold? 
Both soldiers. I hold. 

Edam. One moment let me eye these frozen eyes. 
Deterred by gestures of derisive Fate, 
Thou liest grim. Go, lofty galleon, 
Thy sails with empyrean tempests filled, 
Angels around thee, like the white sea-birds 
That bring the ship to harbor. 



64 



{Enter Christopher) 

Greg. Are you hurt? 

Edam. Speak, speak! Cry out! 

Chr. Cry out, despicable throat! 

It came too soon, that which, with lowly hands, 

Seizes the ankles of upfiighted victory. 

My best was useless. Gregorius, I am weak. 

Ruin appals my head. Where is the king? 

Edam. In sleep and fever, dreams and death, he passed; 

And naught is left save this, his few days' clay. 

Chr. We look, and that which must be here is not. 

Why, fellow-sufferers, I believe we're made 

To be what we abhor, or be hit on the brow 

With those eternal stones we cast away 

In childhood. 

Edam. Should I be what I was and nothing more, 

I should be less at this. Now I am queen and king. 

When I put forth my dangerous hand, see ye 

That messages like falcons fly from it. 

I'll be the flatterer of your bravery; 

Come, Christopher, thou art not lacking aim. 

Chr. Wide open will I split the day again. 

Edam. And what is won is thine. 

Chr. Let me have bread and a little wine. 

Edam. Edamia will bring thee wine. {Exit) 

Chr. And Bohanoc, while thou art not thyself, 

Without a word, deficient in all ways. 

For thee and for thy queen, I'll gather up 

The drifting losses, bear the prize to thee. 

Thou heedless owner of all this sovereignty. 

{Re-enter Edamia) 

Edam. Here's crimson drinking. May your sword so drink. 
Chr. Hail, crimson spirit of the wine. 
I drink you, drink your body, wings and shaking hair. 
Edam. Thy vision now is foremost. 

{Exit Christopher) 
{At ivindoiv) 
How this emblazoned soldier on black horse, 



65 



Whose fast, concurrent hoofs go in a cloud, 

Resumes his wrath ! 

A woman comes this way, with twofold glances 

At perils on both sides. Backward 

Also she recks, and does more looking round 

Than coming on. Gregorius, unhatch 

The door. A mournful princess enters now. 

{Enter Ataragon) 

Atar. Oh, I have stumbled full knee-deep in dangers. 

Edam. Gregorius, there is a company of men 

That graze that hazy hill. Direct them hither. 

Greg. With speed. {Exit) 

Edam. Come, now, obstreperous woman. 

I, the astrologer of thy wicked stars, 

Will mark the spell that overrules thy soul, 

First giving thee time to weep. I've lost a king; 

Thou hast a father lost. 

Atar. Facetious gods! 

Where is divinity? 

Edam. See how he lies: 

Concussion, fire and all reflection gone. 

Atar. O cherished one! O dearer than the gods! 

Extensive world and my little white dove. 

The circle and the center of my sight. 

What can be said of this? Of all the shapes 

That leapt from liberal creation, thou. 

King-father, wert most noble and most glorious. 

How is it, by existence honored up, 

And thus made spurious? 

How was this rich one pauperized of life? 

Edam. Thou gavest poison. 

Atar. Thou art a liar always; lewd in speech. 

Edam. His poisoner art thou. With all thy whims, 

Devotions undevout, idolatries and songs, 

Religion, politics and medicine. 

Thou madest sin a potent livelihood; 

And hadst our honor sink in superstition; 

Hate ruled from the towers, and love left the doorways; 

The day became a shadow; and the night 



66 

Fell out of bed with terror. 

Atar. Oh, oh, my soul ! 

Edam. Oh, oh, and oh! 

Now thou'rt a cipher that cries only O. 

Atar. Would that ray king could ope and utter O. 

Edam. Of this dark liquid, in whose compressed hue 

Were slumbers for a hundred nights, the drops 

Were poured uncountedly. Behold what's left. 

Atar. I did not this. 

Edam. But thy physicians, knowing well thy treason. 

Thy lust to bear a bastard government. 

Did kill this countr/s husband for your passion; 

Presented Bohanoc to earth. Much murdered 

Thy father was, Ataragon. And now. 

All they who touched the manner of his death 

Must do communion with his turning pale. 

Two days hence, thou shalt die, ambitious girl. 

Our peace requires thy body for cement 

Beneath its pedestal. I pity thee — 

Nay, part of thee — the darling womanhood 

That dies with its component villainy. 

Atar. Now all is silent in the world, save this. 

Become a wonder 'twixt our earth and Heaven. 

We listen till we seem to hear. 

Most terrible of all, no terror's mine. 

My father's body, unbudged at hearing this! 

How corpse breeds corpse! Behold thy deathly daughter. 

{Re-enter Christopher) 

Chr. There is no battle; weapons disappeared. 

The rebel chieftain on the hill I met. 

Then did rebellion spurt its liquid rubies. 

Never his lips will snarl at us again. 

As mute as he, his henchmen dropped their blades. 

As if they had been chopped all at the stroke; 

Stood for a moment, and then fled like devils 

Turned into swine, swilling their appetites 

For the far-off. We kill no fugitives. 

It's better that they run than fight to the death. 

Edam, Observe him, Heaven with applauding thunder. 



67 



Atar. Bereft, unclouded of all artifice, 

Me now behold, great Christopher. 

Chr. Oft have I thee beheld, Ataragon. 

Atar. The banquet of the past is cleared away; 

The walls are broken, and the castle down. 

Proud host was merely guest at her own table. 

And yet, the wandering beggar will remember. 

Lame penitence will trudge back to the music, 

Hear tattling echoes of a bygone love. 

Fancies of the tinkling umbrage whence she came. 

And calls out for the past amid the ruins. 

Not long, O Christopher, have I to live, 

And drink the woeful blood of dead mistakes. 

I am condemned (only two days are left, 

My silver brink at black eternity) 

To die. 

Edam. This is a careful-gusty speech, intending 

To have his heart beat like a leprichaun. 

Chr. {to Edamia). Is't true thou art to prove this girl's 

mortality. 
One stroke imposing for all the strokes of time, 
That hath not even marred the creature yet? 
Edam. The king took death from her physician's hand, 
Which did her pleasure. 
Atar. No; not that. 

Edam. Her friends were wantons, mystics and magicians. 
What was a king to them? This medicine, 
Not to allay his fever but abort 
The king himself as some unwelcome child 
From out our wonder, was. There is he dead. 
Atar. My guilt was not of guile but lack of it. 
I birthed these wrongs, that, with rebounding hatred. 
Now tear the mother. There was one crime truly 
My own, whose victim never stood before me 
Without a gift. I did bewilder him; 
And still his wilderness, plowed up with cruelties, 
Yielded the flowers of patience; thou didst love me. 
Chr. It seems not long ago but far away 
In some land for a moment seen, I loved. 
Atar. Sorrow will soothe its own ; desire goes out, 



68 

Leaving pure woman, and as pure as this: 
Grief could not make more pure the joyous purity 
That first encountered thee. 

{Enter Winifred) 

Win. No one has come for me. All day I hid, 
Covering me with straw, near Christopher's cow, 
The which a soldier killed. I've been afraid 
Since morning. 

Edam, The eventful hours 

Have left thee far and frightened in the past. 
The king being dead, Christopher, made of kings. 
Having set the royal stamp upon his foes. 
Is now the conspicuous prince of all this line; 
And, by my holding of the interval, 
Your wifehood is decreed at end. Estate 
Will be provided you. 

Win. Then I have dealt with royal interests; 
And, though uncareful, I have learned enough 
To leave with royal vigor. This perhaps 
Repairs the weakness that I wept this morning. 
Farewell, enchanted husband; such you were. 
Chr. Sweet moment of a bitter day, farewell. 

{Exit Winifred) 
Atar. The minutes of my heart are numbering out. 
With all my heavenly sins I trust the priest 
For God's perfecting; and the earthly crimes 
I bring to thee for benediction. 

Could I to Heaven start, slipping through thy arms. 
And hearing, of the world's last noise, thy voice. 
Death would not be too cruel, Christopher. 
Edam. She's dangerous. 

For the moment, chilled with the aspect of her downfall. 
She weeps repentantly. Anon, thawed out, 
She'd strike at foolish hospitality. 
There is no good within this government 
Until her eviTs out. Death hastily hers 
Must be, else dead is all supremacy. 
You've conquered, Christopher, on hill and heath. 
There's jubilance upon our armies yonder. 



69 



Speak to Ataragon; then to your bowmen. (Exit) 

A tar. Thou saidst goodbye to one wife; take another. 

Two days are mine; and then to hear at last, 

"Goodbye, my wife." Death would be languid only. 

C/ir. Would it not be a heavenly robbery. 

Taking thee thus, bounding in at the end? 

Who would come bursting the last locks of life. 

Plundering the last love's honey from thy cells, 

Ere the waxen statue is dressed for Paradise? 

Atar. How deathly dear, pursuing me to death. 

Departing there; I pale in Heaven's path; 

Thou, warm with my last warmth, to life returning. 

Chr. It is malevolent. 

Atar. I am not frigid yet with the eternal snows 

To which I sink, near Bohanoc, to realms 

Where lie the azure corpses of the past. 

{Enter Gregorius) 

Greg. My lord, the queen is with the army, which, 
And multitudes of people, call you king. 
Atar. King? Word like fortune's eagle in the sky. 
C/ir. If I be king, I'll save Ataragon. 

{Exeunt Christopher and Gregorius) 
Atar. New life arising. Hope, come to me, hope. 
Come, come. Art thou a cat, that will not come? 
Black winds I hear, like moody oxen lowing. 
Falls, falls the sky. The wild goose, dark beneath, 
Floats on the billowy air between the clouds. 
And cries for cold. Sad is the ending of it. 

{Enter tivo soldiers) 

F. Sold. God save thee, woman; close thine eyes. 

Atar. What roughness moves thee to this tender tone? 

F. Sold. We are thy executioners. 

Atar. Not yet, good man; I have two days to live. 

F. Sold. Our warrant and this rope do not say that. 

Atar. Where's Christopher? 

S. Sold. Remember; only a priest. 



70 

F. Sold. Only a priest you are to see. {Throws black cloak 

over her) 
Atar. Not on my head. Good friend, not yet. Let me 
Have prayers, and then I shall be a good patient. 
Not so high. 

{They strangle her) 
F. Sold. She was to have a priest. 

S. Sold. We'll say she had; and who'll know whether or not? 
F. Sold. She will, if for this loss of ceremony, 
She's lost and goes to Hell or Purgatory. 

S. Sold. There she'll find many a priest. Fear not for her. 
F. Sold. Then come away. 

S. Sold. Look at the king. Too big! 

He was a fighter and philosopher. 
Yet could not understand the kittens round him. 
That neither fight nor think and still they thrive. 

{Enter Edamia, Christopher and attendants) 

Chr. What damnable exposure is there here? 

Another beautiful spot abandoned suddenly 

By Nature. 

Edam. Love used the sword of justice for this deed. 

{Exeunt soldiers) 
Chr. How the times do rot! 
Edam. Think well of this. 

Chr. Option reduced to wonder! Wonder's nothing. 
What things have been that we have looked upon. 
Storm-tossed, we two, mid stormy leavings, rise 
For mutual sight. These two are dead, and we 
Are living. Life is this, and death is that. 
To this there is no that; to that, no this. 
Edam. There is too much of heaviness about. 
Remove these broken darlings. Let the king 
Be waked nine days; for him be built a hill, 
That in it he be buried standing up 
In all the metal, housings, warlike objects 
And representation of. glory. For the princess 
(Rid as she was by weeping necessity) 
Let three days observation hold. Proceed. 



71 



(Exeunt attendants nvith bodies of Bohanoc and A tar agon) 
Chr. Life is debauchery in sight of death ; 
The more voluptuous the more abominable. 
Thus I, a scoundrel for being now alive, 
Embrace thee to a sacrificial sin, 
Or mystic revel. All the mournful instincts 
Would make their manner known in hottest flesh. 
Thou too art grieving fiercely and with passion, 
Love-glancing here, scarce risen from the slain. 
Perfumed thy lips and raiment, sumptuous mourner, 
Layest thou thy guilty bosom in ray arms. 
Edam. Guilty? God, gavest thou another curse, 
To hear, in the sublimity of love. 
The hideous word? Or, filled with poison, too. 
Do I now hear distortion in my blood 
And not my lover whispering to me, "Guilty." 
Chr. 'Tis guilty to do anything, and still more guilt 
In doing it well. 

Edam, Go thou unto a deeper Hell 

Than e'er was known to any. 
Chr, Forgive this tumbled and excited soul 
That it called quietude a sin. 
Thine are the folding and retentive arms 
That beautify the journey and the ending, 
And touch the weary head with such desire 
As charms away the weapons; hallows the shield; 
Puts garlands on regret; makes, of known places, 
All others war, and this, tranquility. 
Edam. O thou ! Go not but come. Come to this hell. 
My heart, which you have made infernal. 
I was thy constant servant, Christopher; 
And with these hands did bicker the hands of Fate, 
When haggard Mercy could not bear the sight. 
'Twas I that sent Gregorius to attend thee 
And bade him stave Sebastian. Thee I watched. 
Thou art alive! 

And death was indiscriminate here awhile. 
Thou art alive. Thy nostrils can yet quiver. 
Thy arm is widest now ; and head, the proudest. 
Thy cheeks are castless where the raging storms 



72 



Recoil in music; thy hair, earth's glorious banner 

To me ; thy mouth, the world communicative. 

Chr. Edamia's lips! 

Soft, crimson leeches clinging to my own. 

Lifts now the impending darkness, and obstruction 

Goes like the Gates of Gazza. 

{Enter Gregorius and Abymelig) 

Greg. Here is one that with a material message, 

Begs audience of the queen. 

Edam. Abymelig, what would you? 

Abym. I have official emblems, documents, 

Records and mysteries of the Holy Temple; 

The which — Ataragon no more — 'tis meet 

I leave in your empowered hands; yet humbly 

Request that in the public use thereof. 

Respect be of the reverence once there. 

Edam. Take them, Gregorius. 

Abym. Behold! {Stabs her) 

And Devil take your unproductive bones. 

Chr. Cur of eternity! Burst, burst, thou cur! {Strangles 

Abymelig and casts him doivn) 
Edam. Long wishes meet the precious hour too late. 
Chr. There is no death until Edamia dies. 

Edam. Farewell, my world, and in it Christopher. {Dies) 
Chr. Farewell, inducements and things clutchable. 
Edamia, Edamia, is that all? 

Greg. Come, my lord; these are all of yesterday. 
Sit not with them, or madness will sit with thee. 
Chr. Gregorius, come not near; I'm spelled with death; 
The cloudiness of it is catching all. 
All they that love me and that hate do die. 
Death, how thou followest me! 
Greg. Ah, dying is the soldier's pleasure. Hear! 
They call another Bohanoc. They call you. 
Chr. They call? Who call? And who is called? 
What's place to place to be thus called and answering? 
Is this where I stood yesterday? 
Where are the fickle shapes warmed into life 



73 



Merely to frighten with departures cold? 

Who would have thought the material so untrue? 

'Twas misarranged, or ill-observed. Nathless, 

The scene is gone; the walls are decomposed. 

On yonder hillsides, built for disappointment, 

Are castles gray, transcendent window-squares, 

Banners mist-laden, granite piled on granite 

Abrupt from earth to sky-ascending gloom. 

Greg. You lost superbly. Let him say as much 

Who wins. The loss exalts; the gain degrades. 

Fate sought thee for distinction, singled thee 

With flaming sorrows, like a central sun; 

And scorched were they who dared approach too near. 

My lord, this door now opens unto duty. 

Let fall the man, and walk abroad the king. 

Chr. As such awhile, in darkness round our throne, 

I'll wear the ebony crown, and mourn alone. 



